r 


^ 


V 


REMY  ST.   REMT: 


OB, 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE, 


BY 

MRS.  C.  H.  GILDERSLEEVE. 


"Round  his  mysterious  ME,  there  lies,  under  all  those  wool-rases,  a  p 
mcnt  of  Flesh,  contextured  in  the  loom  of  Heaven." — SAP.TOB  EESARTL'S 


NEW    YORK: 

JAMES   O'KANE,  126  NASSAU  STREET. 
1865. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S65, 
BY    C.    H.    GILDERSLEE  VE  , 

In  the  Clerk's  Office,  of  the  U.  8    District   Court,   for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


ij ttMe  tone    nave  gti>en    tntti-  vc*t  vet&ved  to  tnetr 

r 

ana  wftc  nai'e  totted  and  6u,/feicd  chtung  {fitter    J 

t  £  £          f  /        0      •  fl  f 

ana  at  fatt   wefU  in    tto/tcleJJ    acAOtation    vecau^e  tiie 

voice  tva<)  fotever  <Htent,  and  tne  aeauxt  Head  fuina  in  a  fat* 

atvaj*    gtaw,    t/ie46  fiaaea    ate    intcuved,  witn  tn&   wve   and 


1823-124 


PREFACE. 


THE  real  life  of  to-day  lies  parallel  with  the 
intensest  fiction  of  yesterday,  and  has  more 
pathos  and  heroism  ;  but,  alas  !  the  poetic 
justice  is  all  left  out ! 

These  pages  were  written  because  the  real- 
ity drifted  past  our  eyes  and  ears,  and  is  a 
portion  of  history.  Perhaps  our  taste  would 
have  gathered  something  of  pleasanter  color  ; 
but  there  is  little  that  is  lovely,  though  much 
that  is  grandly  beautiful,  and  wonderfully 
sublime,  in  the  years  that  have  just  left  us. 

The  writer  is  conscious  of  the  utter  poverty 
of  words,  while  attempting  to  express  the  sad 
truths  which  have  found  life  in  these  desolate 
days.  The  record  of  this  story  lies  under  our 
palm ;  but  the  soldiers  upon  God' s  battle-fields 
march  forth,  in  this  little  book,  under  the  veil, 
which  the  truly  heroic  always  choose  and 
the  really  noble  can  comprehend. 


VI  PEKFACB. 

Years  hence,  this  second  christening  would 
have  been  unnecessary,  because  many  of  the 
events  recorded  here,  will  be  embalmed  in 
the  glorious  annals  of  our  crusade  against 
tyranny,  and  the  consequent  triumph  of  hu- 
manity. Liberty  has  led  its  lovers  through 
strange  ways,  where  they  have  followed  glad- 
ly, even  unto  death ;  and  when  the  smoke  of 
battle  shall  have  drifted  away,  there  will  be 
indisputable  proofs  of  the  enclosed  picture, 
even  though  the  mists  of  fictitious  baptisms 
hide  a  few  of  the  actors  in  this  drama  from 
the  curious  eyes  of  the  world,  because  "the 
finer  forces  of  some  natures  compel  them  to 
forget  their  individuality,  when  humanity  de- 
mands the  sacrifice. 

c.  H.  G. 

HABTFORD,  Cx. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 
CHAPTER  II. 
CHAPTER  III. 
CHAPTER  IV. 
CHAPTER  V. 
CHAPTER  VI. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

> 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
CHAPTER  X. 

AFTER    THE    STORM,  -  - 

CHAPTER  XI. 
WITH  THE  ENEMY,  ... 

CHAPTER  XII. 
AT  CHATTANOOGA,  ... 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
WHY  REMY  ST.  REMY  DISAPPEARED, 


NO    SURRENDER, 


MARCHING, 


SECRET    SERVICE, 


AMONG   ENEMIES, 


HOKEY, 


JUNE  8,  1861, 


MELTED    IN    THE    FIRE 


ASUNDER, 


IN    BATTLE, 


9 

-  26 
45 

-  58 
69 

-  78 
100 

-  119 
143 

-  172 
177 

-  200 
229 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
LOVE'S  MUSKETRY,  -  .  -  234 

CHAPTER  XV. 
NOT    WHAT    HE    INTENDED,  -         245 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
GATHERING   TOGETHER,  -   267 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

REMY  ST.  REMY'S  STORY,    -  -      283 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOW    THEY    MET,  302 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
AT    CHATTANOOGA    AGAIN,  -         323 

CHAPTER  XX. 
ANGELS    OF    MERCY,  -  -   231 

CHAPTER  XXL 
WADING   STILL,  -         346 

NOTE, 351 


CHAPTER   I. 


NO       SURRENDER. 


"  Yet  will  the  old  time 
Never  return  !  never  those  peaceful  hours  ! 
Never  that  careless  heart,  and  never  more, 
Ah,  never  more,  that  laughter  without  pain  ; 
But  I  that  languish  for  repose,  must  fly  it, 
Nor  save  in  doing,  daring,  taste  of  rest." 


BY  a  white  fountain,  midway  between  the  homestead 
on  the  hill  and  the  white  shore  of  the  sea,  stood  two, 
whose  faces  cast  back  broken  reflections  from  the  rest- 
less ripples  in  the  deep  marble  basin,  and  the  picture  of 
their  changed  lineaments  might,  and  perhaps  did  sug- 
gest a  resemblance  to  their  future,  and  send  the  thought 
thrilling  through  their  hearts. 

Whatever  they  saw,  or  felt,  was  unspoken. 

Remy  St.  Remy's  manner  indicated  a  desire  to  end 
the  interview.  She  had  forced Jierself  to  an  appearance 
of  indifference.  You  might  have  imagined  her  next 


10  THE  EOT  IN  BLUE. 

utterance  would  be  a  ripple  of  sentiment,  or  a  quaint 
conceit  suggested  by  the  unusual  appearance  of  the  sky 
and  sea,  but  fate  and  not  fancy,  was  in  their  coming 
words.  Every  syllable  was  from  the  soul.  The  man 
wore  the  look  of  one  who  had  fought  hard,  and  been 
vanquished.  A  stern  purpose,  once  vitalized  by  hope, 
lay  dead  upon  his  face.  You  could  see  the  pallor,  and 
feel  the  quiver  of  the  last  agonising  effort  of  subjuga- 
tion. 

It  had  been  a  brief  contest,  and  was  just  ending  be- 
tween these  two  magnificently  matched  spirits.  Both 
were  unconquerable,  but  the  glow  upon  the  woman's 
forehead,  and  the  suppressed  gleam  of  her  eyes,  proved 
that  truth  and  justice  claimed  her  as  victor. 

The  young  man's  dark  eyes  wore  no  look  that  an  up- 
right soul  sends  forth,  even  in  defeat.  He  had  come 
from  his  southern  home  with  not  a  doubt  of  success,  and 
the  pitiful  drooping  of  his  spirit  shaped  itself  in  attitude 
and  features. 

Only  the  metalic  ring  of  his  voice  told  that  he  was 
Carryl  Farnam,  the  proudest  man  of  Tennessee,  the 
humblest  man  in  New  England. 

The  girl  stood  like  a  palpitating  statue  facing  the  sea. 
The  far  outlook  of  her  still  eyes  rested  upon  the  thunder- 
cloud bordering  the  horizon.  She,  only  a  child,  a  love- 
ly happy  creature,  a  half  year  ago, — but  now  she  was 
lifted  to  the  highest  womanhood — the  grandest  pinnacle 
of  heroism,  to  meet  the  approaching  storm.  Not  that 


THE  BOY  IN  SLUE.  \  J 

which  her  eyes  gazed  upon  startled  her  soul,  but  the 
terrible  one  that  faced  her  future,  and  whose  thunders 
were  tokens  of  death,  and  whose  whirlwinds  wasted 
houses,  leveled  tyrants,  and  wrested  fetters,  and  yet  she 
was  gloriously  affluent  in  resource,  and  rich  in  personal 
reliance,  as  the  last  threat  and  argument  fell  upon  her 
ears. 

A  young  martyr,  who  had  resolved  to  resist  the  rack 
with  all  vital  and  spiritual  force,  would  have  worn  the 
deep  calm  of  unutterable  determination  which  transfigur- 
ed her  face. 

"  You  will  not  go  to  your  home  with  me,  Miss  St. 
Bern y  ?" 

"I  will  not." 

"  You  will  not  attempt  the  journey  alone,  you  cannot, 
dare  not." 

"  I  dare — I  may.  My  future  and  yours  is  no  longer 
in  any  wise  blended.  I  cannot  comply  with  a  wish 
against  which  my  highest  nature  revolts.  You  are  de- 
termined upon  rebellion  to  the  best  government,  man 
ever  knew — and  Carryl  Farnam,  if  I  ever  loved  you, 
and  I  am  not  sure  that  I  did,  I  detest  you  now.  What 
I  may  do,  I  do  not  know.  If  my  course  has  in  any  wise 
seemed  plain  to  me,  you  will  not  share  it,  and  it  would 
be  useless  for  you  to  know." 

"  Woman's  mysteries,"  he  said,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Once  I  abhorred  both  mysteries  and  subterfuges.  I 
do  not  know  if  I  do  now,  except  as  they  are  embodied  in 


12  THE  SOY  IN  BLUE. 

yourself.  Had  you  asked  me  before  our  last  correspon- 
dence, and  this  interview,  if  a  deception  or  silence  was 
ever  justifiable  between  ourselves,  I  should  have  said  no, 
and  perhaps  been  angered  at  you  for  putting  the  ques- 
tion. To-day  there  seems  to  be  a  revolution  in  all 
things,  and  in  myself  most  of  all.  I  do  not  know  what 
I  am,  or  what  I  may  do,  and  how  can  I  tell  you,  even 
if  I  choose  to  reply  to  questions  you  have  no  longer  a 
right  to  ask.  Before  your  disloyalty,  my  heart  was  a 
glass  in  which  you  could  see  yourself,  and  every  thought 
of  mine.  To-day  it  is  an  alembic,  and  I  cannot  tell  what 
it  may  precipitate.  My  crushed  future  holds  worthier 
solutions  than  before  I  passed  this  trial.  My  heart  re- 
sponds to  something  beyond  repose  and  selfish  luxury. 
Your  patriotism  is  dead,  and  villany  lives  in  its  stead. 
I  christen  this  new  birth  of  yours  by  that  name.  I 
know  you  wish  I  were  a  man  at  this  moment,  and  so  do 
I.  My  patriotism  is  Procrustean.  It  may  torture  me 
till  it  is  fitted  to  every  act  of  my  life.  Don't  interrupt 
me.  I  have  nearly  finished  our  last  conversation. 
When  I  promised  you  my  hand,  I  was  a  toy,  and  I 
pleased  you.  To-day  I  am  a  woman,  and  the  daughter 
of  an  Unionist,  as  loyal  as  any  man  who  calls  this 
Republic,  home.  He  has  not  told  me  this  to  change 
my  estimate  of  you.  I  should  have  known  it,  if  he 
had  uttered  no  word  of  our  poor  insulted  country. 
He  has  never  written  your  name  since  he  left  me  in 
France." 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  TIE,  13 

"  You  call  our  affection  and  your  promise  nothing, 
when  weighed  against  loyalty  ?" 

"  Nothing !" 

"  I  do  not  forget  my  birth-place,  and  its  claims  upon 
me.  You  have  a  girl's  fancy,  but  you  have  a  woman's 
heart.  You  will  repent  the  bitter  words  of  to-day, 
when  it  is  too  late." 

"  Never !  My  birth-place  was  in  the  United,  not  in 
the  divided  States.  I  never  forget  that.  You  can  leave 
me  now.  A  traitor  will  never  find  forgiveness,  if  he 
beg  ever  so  imploringly.  Remember  this,  Cairyl  Far- 
nam,  and  one  thing  more.  You  take  with  you  my 
prayers  for  your  penitence,  but  not  one  heart-beat  of 
affection.  The  dead  never  rise  in  this  world.  Remem- 
ber !" 

She  turned  from  him  with  a  strange  quietness,  a  won- 
derful calm,  and  followed  the  pathway  down  the  slope 
towards  the  sea.  She  looked  as  immovable  as  the 
marble  Hebe  at  her  side  when  she  rested,  turning  no 
gaze  backward.  The  fountain  of  her  life  had  grown 
bitter,  but  its  Marah  was  invisible.  An  hour  passed, 
and  her  host,  Colonel  Berry,  brought  her  a  letter,  but 
it  bore  no  mark  of  home,  yet  she  felt  its  contents, 
and  the  superscription  was  familiar  to  the  eye  of  the 
colonel. 

"  The  last,  I  fear,  until  the  storm  passes.  The  very 
sky  seems  pitiful  to-day,  and  the  white  Catalpa  blos- 
soms have  covered  you  as  the  birds  did  the  lost  children 
2 


1 4  THE  BOY  IN  BL UK 

but  you  are  not  lost,  you  know.  We  will  be  only 
too  glad  to  shelter  and  care  for  you  if  you  will  stay. 
Please  don't  be  distressed.  You  used  to  look  as  if  no 
cloud  could  blot  out  the  sunshine  of  your  faith  and 
fancy.  Don't  let  it  go  now,  when  we  all  need  it  so 
much,  and  you,  more  than  ourselves.  How  it  thunders, 
and  how  heavily  the  surf  throbs  and  throbs  on  the  rocks, 
as  if  its  big  restless  soul  understood  the  agony  in  the 
northern  heart !  But  you  don't  open  your  letter. 
Shall  I  leave  you  to  face  its  contents  alone,  Miss  St. 
Remy  ?" 

For  a  moment  her  wonderful  face  quivered,  and 
then  she  slowly  unsealed  and  read  the  loving,  but  terri- 
ble tidings.  Steadily  her  eyes  followed  the  tracery  of 
her  father's  hand,  and  then  her  white  fingers  closed  over 
the  brief  message,  and  her  future  was  silently  shaping 
itself  in  her  woman's  brain.  All  that  day's  decline  the 
strange  girl  sat  motionless  under  the  falling  blossoms 
of  this  transplanted  tree,  whose  roots  had  germinated 
in  the  garden  of  her  childhood's  home.  Her  hands 
tightened  over  her  letter  so  closely  that  the  color  left 
their  thin  tips,  and  they  lay  like  exquisite  models 
carved  from  meerschaum. 

Only  once  during  that  time  did  she  lift  her  splendid 
head,  and  then  only  to  look  answer  to  poor  Dot,  who 
came  to  say : 

"  'Pears  like  you'd  growd  dare,  pretty  chile,  jes  like 
dat  black  stun  woman  down  in  Massa  St.  Rerny's 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  15 

flower  patch,  only  you  isn't  black,  course  you  isn't. 
You'se  a  nuff  site  whiter  nor  I  wish  you  was  dis  day, 
chile.  'Spects  you  got  sumfin  in  dat  are  letter  dat 
spiles  de  red  roses  on  your  cheeks — tell  Dot." 

The  young  girl  lifted  her  eyes,  placed  them  silently 
u  ['ion  Dot,  until  the  funny  bit  of  blackness  had  retreat- 
ed, without  turning,  to  the  doorway  of  the  mansion, 
and  then,  with  a  movement  not  found  in  gymnastics, 
threw  her  huge  white  apron  over  her  face,  and  herself 
upon  the  marble  floor,  and  rolled  one  way  and  then  the 
other,  as  if  she  could  manipulate  herself  into  her 
usual  jolly  condition.  Suddenly  a  bright  thought 
struck  her,  which  she  expressed  audibly,  with  a  bit  of 
wholesome  philosophy. 

"  Dot,  you  are  a  fool,  and  a  nigger.  Crying  won't 
help  any  body.  Marble  floors  has  got  rheumatiz  in  'em. 
Dinners  are  best  kept  warm  in  a  body's  stomach. 
Mistis  Brown  says  I'll  be  mancipated.  'Spose  dat's 
nice,  but  I  heap  sight  rather  'd  marry  Hokey.  'Spose 
I'se  got  to  wait  for  dat.  May  be  Hokey  '11  be  shot 
with  a  gun,  or  killed  with  a  pistol,  or  sumfin.  Guess  I 
won't  tink  of  dese  tings  though,  'till  I'se  had  dinner 
anyway.  Dey  would  spile  my  dispepsy  if  I  got  too 
hungry  crying  'bout  dat  handsome  Hokey.  Now  hold 
your  tongue,  Dot,  dese  white  gals  don't  know  noffin 
like  as  much  'bout  feelins  as  cullud  pussons  does,  'cept 
my  mistis." 

She  wiped  her  eyes,  righted  her  apron,  and  put  on 


1 Q  THE  BO  7  IN  BL  UE. 

what  she  called  her  "  topish  ways,"  and  moved  onward 
to  the  kitchen,  imagining  herself  superior  to  any  "  white 
party,"  who  took  their  meals  outside  the  dining  room. 
Her  "  topishness,"  however,  cost  the  house-keeper  a 
twinge  of  distress,  as  Dot's  skirts  swept  by  a  vase  from 
the  library,  and  sent  it  shapeless  to  the  floor. 

"  De  pesky  ting  broke  it's  own  pesky  self,"  was 
Dot's  apology.  No  remonstrance  changed  the  girl's 
form  of  expression  or  brought  a  penitential  word. 
She  thought  all  the  Northern  people  were  "  Bobolition- 
ers,"  and  she  had  caught  the  idea  that  the  word  meant, 
thieves  of  colored  people.  Therefore,  she  considered 
any  wrong  done  to  them  justifiable.  She  was  not 
adored  in  the  kitchen,  and,  but  that  her  stomach  was  of 
intense  interest,  she  would  have  absented  herself 
altogether.  However,  the  memory  of  Hokey,  nor  the 
white  face  of  her  mistress,  nor  the  broken  vase  of 
dainty  china  with  exquisite  coloring,  disturbed  her 
relish  for  dinner,  and  she  was  prepared  to  resume  her 
grief  with  unimpaired  digestive  organs. 

The  thunder  pealed  in  the  distance,  but  approached 
no  nearer.  The  surf  throbbed  on  in  its  rhythmical  sor- 
row, and  answered  thought  for  thought  in  the  spirit  of 
the  exiled  white  girl,  and  in  its  monotonous  but 
cadenced  sympathy,  her  palms  loosened  their  grasp, 
and  the  numbness  went  as  the  roses  came  back  to  her 
finger  tips.  She  gathered  courage  from  the  voice  of 
the  sea,  and  that  day's  communion  had  told  her  that, 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK  17 

even  as  its  waves  touched  and  washed  all  the  homes  of 
the  children  of  man,  so  God's  hand  held  every  crea- 
ture. 

All  who  love  and  listen  to  nature  are  soothed  and 
comforted  by  its  voice,  and  she  believed  that  some- 
where and  some  time  upoii  its  bosom,  she  should  rest 
with  a  reunited  household,  though  weariness  and  watch- 
ing, and  perhaps  struggle,  lay  in  long  lines  of  suffering 
between. 

There  was,  she  knew,  too  much  intuitive  delicacy  in 
the  hearts  of  these  Northern  friends  to  ask  the  contents 
of  that  last  letter  from  the  lovely  Southland.  She  did 
not  imagine  how  one  heart  longed  to  ask  just  one  ques- 
tion, and  dared  not  even  with  his  eyes. 

The  sun  still  shone  high  above,  but  the  low  black 
cloud  continued  to  hang  like  a  rim  upon  the  further 
edge  of  the  Atlantic.  Moan  after  moan  rose  up  from 
the  waves,  and  now  and  then  intonations  vibrated  from 
the  black  mass  of  electric  vapor. 

Like  a  white  crown  upon  a  lonely  headland,  rested 
the  home  of  Colonel  Berry.  There  are  few  so  charm- 
ing, though  many  are  grander,  in  New  England. 
Architectural  taste  has  been  of  slow,  and  uncertain 
growth  in  America,  but  it  had  found  complete  manifes- 
tations in  this  harmonious  structure. 

From  its  columned  entrance  to  the  shelly  beach, 
stretched  a  terraced  lawn,  studded  with  graceful  trees, 

tinted  and  toned  by  all  the  colors  of  progressive  fruit- 
2* 


1 8  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE. 

age,  gold  and  green,  russet  and  red,  peeping  out  from 
nestling  foliage  with  a  glance  of  beauty,  or  boldly  facing 
the  sunbeams,  and  drinking  perfection.  Cedars  wore 
their  sober  green,  and  Lombardy  poplars  skirted  the 
distance,  like  giant  watchers  guarding  the  quiet,  where 
the  robins  sung  during  the  spring  time,  and  the  velvety 
bees  hummed  from  the  early  tulip's  coming  to  the  white 
amaranth  of  the  dead  summer. 

Pebbled  pathways  set  one's  fancy  thinking  of  white 
ribbons  woven  in  and  out  of  green  tapestry,  and  car- 
peting the  slope. 

The  summer  had  throned  herself  right  regally  upon 
these  New  England  hills  which  sloped  so  gracefully 
towards  the  ocean.  In  truth,  her  reign  had  half  spent 
itself  in  exultant  minstrelsy,  but  the  orchestra  of  wild 
bird  hymns  failed  to  reach  human  ears,  so  pained  were 
they  with  the  drum  beat  and  bugle  call,  which  sum- 
moned brave  men  to  victory  or  heaven. 

Colonel  Berry  had  called  together  his  thousand  men, 
and  tented  them  upon  a  meadow  of  his  father's  smooth- 
ing, where  the  white  canvas  cones  dappled  the  green  in 
sight  of  his  mother's  eyes.  She  was  proud  of  the  pic- 
ture, even  through  the  pain  in  her  heart,  and  her  son, 
oh,  if  he  could  have  taken  one  other  love  than  her's  he 
would  hive  been  glad,  even  though  the  next  dawn  was 
to  light  'iem  on  their  way  to  the  battle-field. 

He  knew  that  Carryl  Farnam  had  come  northward 
in  the  disguise  of  a  loyal  man,  to  accompany  Miss  St. 


THE  £0 1'  IN  BL  UE.  \  9 

Remy  to  her  native  home,  before  the  pickets  should  in- 
terpose impossibilities  to  their  transit.  lie  knew  too, 
that  this  Southerner  had  possessed  her  promise  to  a 
marriage,  and  her  love  too,  or  at  least  her  admiration. 
Women  mistake  one  for  the  other  sometimes,  and  per- 
haps Remy  St.  Remy  was  too  young  to  discriminate, 
when  the  betrothal  occurred. 

Carry  1  Farnam  was  young,  proud,  elegant  and  rich, 
and  it  had  been  a  pleasant  plan  of  exclusive  families  to 
unite  these  two.  Both  had  been  educated  in  part 
abroad,  and  both  came  back  with  a  warm  love  for  their 
own  land.  It  was  with  inexpressible  pain  that  they 
found  so  much  dissension  growing  in  their  homes,  but 
there  was  a  ranker  growth  of  strife  springing  in  their 
hearts  as  they  expressed  each  to  each  their  thoughts, 
principles  and  purposes. 

Mis?  St.  Remy  had  exchanged  no  messages  on  politi- 
cal subjects  with  her  absent  father,  but  she  held  her 
own,  having  formed  them  unconsciously,  as  one  does 
their  opinions  of  good  and  evil.  Had  the  message  come 
to  her  that  her  household  had  turned  traitor  to  its  gov- 
ernment, and  she  must  believe  the  testimony,  she  would 
have  taken  the  intelligence  with  the  same  emotion,  only 
bitterer,  as  would  have  followed  the  death  of  all  that 
made  life  beautiful  and  welcome.  This,  however,  she 
knew  could  never  be,  and  no  assurance  could  make  her 
believe  such  an  event  possible,. save  the  audible  words 
of  her  father. 


20  THE  BO  F  IN  BL  UE. 

That  Carryl  Farnam  was  a  foe  to  his  country,  was  a 
fact  which  had  crept  so  slowly  into  her  soul,  that  she 
was  able  to  bend  to  the  truth,  and  cast  him  out  from 
all  participation  in  her  regard.  Suffering  that  comes 
slowly,  finds  more  endurance  and  patience  than  a  quick 
blow,  besides,  she  felt  more  for  her  country's  wrongs 
than  for  her  own.  The  hope  of  her  life  was  gone, 
and  she  never  questioned  if  another  could  rise  in  its 
stead. 

Now  the  parting  with  her  old  friend  and  affianced 
husband  was  past,  she  crowded  into  the  brief  hour  the 
past  and  future,  and  but  for  the  caressing  voice  of  the  sea 
that  arose  up  and  consoled  her  with  a  faith  in  the  Infinite, 
she  would  have  gone  mad  ! 

With  this  unseen  strength,  this  inexhaustible  balm, 
she  forgot  herself,  and  only  remembered  that  in  the 
morning  a  brave  man  was  to  go  forth  from  his  fireside 
and  its  strong  arms  of  love  and  luxury,  to  die,  if  God 
willed,  and  she  put  her  own  sorrows  by,  and  passed 
quietly  into  the  presence  of  a  pale,  calm  woman,  who  had 
consecrated  her  sacrifice  by  Clears,  and  in  the  silence  and 
solitude  of  her  private  apartment — but  with  smiles  and 
cheer  in  the  presence  of  her  noble  son  and  those  who 
shared  his  fate. 

Not  a  film  of  the  cloud  that  had  surged  through  Miss 
St.  Remy's  life  lay  in  her  eyes,  or  upon  her  face,  as  she 
glided  over  the  marble  hall,  and,  with  a  merry  voice, 
sang : 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  21 

"  There  is  a  mighty  Nova-}  of  Bells 
Bushing  from  the  turret" free; 
A  solemn  tale  of  Truthe  it  tells 

O'er  Land  and  Sea. 
How  heartes  be  breaking  fast,  and  then 

Wax  whole  againe." 

She  stooped,  and  left  just  the  spirit  of  a  kiss  upon 
Mrs.  Berry's  brow,  and  then  chirruped  away  of  the  omens 
of  the  sunshine  on  this  last  afternoon  of  the  colonel's 
citizen  life,  and  drew,  oh,  such  delightful  auguries  from 
all  that  came  from  sky  and  sea.  She  was  a  very  bird 
of  beautiful  prophecy  all  that  purple  twilight,  and  though 
Mrs.  Berry  knew  by  a  woman's  intuition  that  a  heart 
was  well  nigh  breaking  under  that  musical  twitter,  she 
would  not  make  it  harder  to  endure,  by  observing  the 
swan  song. 

How  many  of  our  desperate  griefs  could  be  borne 
with  patience,  if  we  alone  knew  that  the  blow  had 
fallen ! 

When  the  color  had  quite  died  out  of  the  sky,  when 
the  thunder  had  threatened  and  then  gone,  and  the  astral 
threw  its  nebulous  light  over  the  elegant  parlors,  Colo- 
nel Berry  came  in  for  his  last  evening  with  his  mother, 
and  the  one  he  loved  better  than  all  the  world  beside, 
though  hopelessly,  and  with  a  wordless  devotion. 

It  was  a  strange  evening.  Mrs.  Berry  understood 
the  young  lady,  and  hoped  for  her  son's  future.  But 
the  colonel !  He  could  in  a  measure  comprehend  his 
mother's  forced  cheerfulness,  but  not  the  gay  spirits  of 
their  guest. 


jo  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

Breaking  the  silence  at  last,  he  said: 

"  I  hope  you  will  remain  with  my  mother  in  my  ab- 
sence, for  your  friend,  I  perceive,  has  gone  without 
taking  you,  as  he  said  he  intended,  upon  the  first  day  of 
his  arrival." 

"  No,  he  did  not  take  me.  My  father  told  me  to  await 
liis  coming,  as  he  should  not  remain  in  the  seceeded  states. 
That  was  his  brief  message  in  to-day's  letter.  I  do  not 
expect  to  hear  again  from  him,  but  hope  to  see  him  soon, 
and  my  brother  also.  Neither  will  bear  arms  against 
this  government,  and  both  believe  that  much  blood  will 
come  of  this  temporary  separation.  Mr.  Farnam  took 
my  message  to  them  to-day." 

"  But  you  will  remain  here  ?" 

"  Don't  tempt  me  to  run  away,  by  making  me  prom- 
ise to  stay.  You  ought  to  comprehend  human,  and  es- 
pecially woman  nature  better,"  and  she  ran  her  beautiful 
fingers  over  the  pearl  keyboard  of  a  piano,  and  sang  a 
verse  of  "  Tim  the  Tacket." 


"  A  bark  is  lying  on  the  sands, 
No  rippling  wave  is  sparkling  near  her ; 

She  seems  unmanned  ot  all  her  hands, 
There's  not  a  soul  on  board  to  steer  her." 


Turning  quickly  round,  she  said  : 

"  You  are  the  pilot  of  this  bark,  and  how  can  we  tell 
where  we  will  drift  when  you  are  gone?  Don't  ask 
absurd  questions."  Then  her  voice  foil  to  that  strange 
key  that  thrilled  every  fibre  of  his  self-poised  being,  as 


THE  SO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  23 

if  he  were  but  a  fleck  of  down  upon  the  breath  of  her 
words. 

"  You  are  going  away,  and  the  good  God  and  His 
loving  angels  guard  you.  You  are  His  messenger — His 
warrior,  and  we  are  only  the  sparrows,  but  He  has 
counted  us,  and  will  mark  us  that  we  do  not  fall.  Good 
night.  I  shall  see  you  from  my  window  when  you  go 
forth.  Your  mother  wants  you  entirely  in  these  last 
moments." 

She  gave  him  her  hand  in  silence,  then  as  she  drew  it 
away,  she  lifted  the  handle  of  his  sword  and  touched  it 
to  her  lips,  and  like  a  spirit  was  gone. 

When  the  colonel  recovered  his  voice,  he  said  : 

"Mother,  you  will  let  that  girl  share  my  place  in 
your  affection  when  I  am  away.  She  can  never  be  to  mo 
that  which  my  heart  demands,  but  I  love  her  just  the 
same,  and  so  will  you.  Don't  blame  her.  She  was  be- 
trothed when  we  first  met,  and  does  not  imagine  my  do- 
votion  to  her,  but  you  will  care  for  her  as  if  she  were  your 
child." 

"  Yes,  my  son,  always,  if  she  will  let  me.  But  I 
don't  like  the  glimmer  in  her  eyes  to-night.  She  is  not 
a  girl  any  more,  but  a  woman  to  meet  any  fate  heroic- 
ally. Poor  heart !"  And  so  they  made  common  in- 
terest in  the  girl,  and  talked  of  her  into  the  deep  mid- 
night, and  what  the  future  might  shape  of  the  strange 
circumstances  of  her  position. 

Colonel  Berry  knew  that  she  had  refused  to  go  with 


24  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

Carryl  Farnam,  and  took  leave  of  him  before  the  letter 
came,  and  he  drew  a  world  of  hope  from  the  event  Miss 
St.  Remy  had  intended  he  should  overlook. 

In  the  morning  he  could  see  the  waving  of  a  white 
hand  over  the  balcony,  and  he  felt  that  a  silent  blessing 
followed  him.  He  was  of  a  proud  New  England  fami- 
ly— the  last  one  of  his  name,  save  his  pale  sweet 
mother,  whose  love  was  divided  between  the  graves 
ou  the  slope,  and  this  one  son.  He  was  worthy  of  all 
the  pride  and  affection  she  lavished,  and  in  giving  him 
to  her  country,  she  bestowed  the  bravest  man,  the  ten- 
derest  heart,  and  the  strongest  sabre-stroke  in  the  Fed- 
eral army. 

Miss  St.  Remy  found  Dot  coiled  upon  the  floor,  with 
her  wool  covered  by  her  apron,  and  the  same  sort  of 
philosophy  that  induced  her  to  eat  while  her  mistress 
fasted,  sent  her  to  sleep  during  the  leave-taking  down 
stairs. 

Dot  was  the  envy  of  her  mistress  for  a  moment,  and 
then  came  back  the  same  determined  and  self-reliant  ex- 
pression that  had  answered  with  more  eloquence  even 
than  her  words,  the  appeal  at  the  fountain. 

Backward  and  forward  she  paced  her  chamber,  stop- 
ped, looked  at  her  face  in  the  mirror,  swept  back  her 
liair  with  her  hands,  pulled  out  the  golden  arrow  with 
its  diamond  tips  and  feather  of  pearls,  and  let  the  long 
dark  coil  roll  down  upon  the  emerald  green  drapery 
o£  her  attire,  and  said,  half  aloud,  to  herself: 


THE  HOY  IN  BL HE.  05 

"  Deserted  !  No,  not  that,  but  alone — Remy — and 
by  your  own  choice — thank  God !  He  thought  you 
less  than  a  woman  to  relinquish  home  and  affection  tor 
duty.  Perhaps  you  are,  but  you  have  weighed  Carry  1 
Farnam  and  found  him  valueless!  Go  to  bed,  child. 
Plait  your  hair — there  is  no  one  to  admire  its  wealth  or 
color  no\v.  You  love  praise  too  well,  but  girl,  you  love 
your  country's  honor  better.  You  would  have  been  a 
good  and  true  wife  to  a  soldier,  if  he  wore  the  Federal 
blue — but  oh,  what  a  rebellion  you  would  have  raised 
for  an  uniform  of  grey  !  Somebody  would  have  been 
mustered  out,  without  waiting  for  military  ceremony. 
You  would  make  a  petite  soldier.  Napoleon  was  about 
your  size." 

She  looked  long  and  earnestly  at  herself,  and  then 
the  big  tears  brimmed  her  eyes,  and  hid  the  beautiful 
face  from  her  sight.  Slowly  she  sank  upon  her  knees 
and  prayed  for  the  protection  of  her  people,  and  for  the 
triumph  of  liberty. 

A  deep  calm  fell  slowly  over  her  brow,  and  down  her 
quivering  lips,  and  stilled  them  into  hope  and  trust. 

She  disrobed  herself,  letting  her  sleepy  woman  take 
her  rest,  saying  softly — "  I  won't  waken  you,  poor  Dot. 
You  have  your  sorrows  to  bear,  and  your  heart  is  white 
with  unselfishness." 

"  My  father,  my  father,"  came  through  her  uncon 
scious  lips,  from  the  dream-land  where  she  had  gone, 
but  a  sweet  faith  rocked  and  soothed  her  soul  even 

there. 

4 


2fi  THE  BOY  IN  BL UK. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MARCHING. 

"  Who  serves  for  gain,  a  slave,  by  thankless  pelf 
Is  paid  ;  who  gives  himself,  is  priceless,  free  ! 
I  give  myself,  a  man,  to  God,  lo,  He 
Benders  me  back  a  saint  unto  myself." 

COLONEL  BERRY  fought  a  fiercer  fight  between  duty 
and  inclination  in  the  grey  of  that  morning  than  any 
bloodless  battle  that  early  dawn  witnessed.  He  was 
brimming  with  patriotism,  but  oh,  if  he  could  only 
carry  with  him  the  certainty  of  safety  to  "  the  little  saint," 
as  he  called  Remy  St.  Remy  in  his  heart,  it  would  be 
so  easy — so  easy  to  go!  Would  she  wait  for  her 
father's  coming  in  the  shelter  of  his  mother's  care,  or 
would  it  be  his  mission  to  tear  her  from  the  heart 
of  Rebeldom,  where  he  feared  her  woman's  affection 
would  lead  her  while  he  was  on  duty  in  the  field  1  He 
rather  hoped  he  might  be  called  to  follow  a  fate  like 
this,and  with  his  imagination  all  aglow  with  the  thought. 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE.  27 

he  was  spared  the  pain  of  parting  glances  at  the  dear 
old  hills  about  his  home,  and  the  beautiful  bold  cliffs, 
and  low  white  shores  where  his  boyhood  drank  faith, 
hope  and  courage,  which  was  to  lead  him  through  fields 
of  fellow  men  harvested  by  the  sweep  of  death-dealing 
shot,  and  over  floods  lashing  out  human  life  in  terrific 
surges,  or  silently  wrapping  them  in  an  endless  sleep. 

The  morning  went  by,  and,  little  by  little,  he  forgot 
the  troubled  dream  of  the  morning,  and  the  white  hand 
that  evoked  it,  and  a  new  world  of  care  dawned  upon 
him.  From  car  to  car  he  went,  with  a  proud  pain  in 
his  heart  at  taking  so  many  noble  fellowrs  from  their 
families,  to  what?  Not  the  fate  that  fell  on  that 
Sabbath  morning — the  last  Sabbath — upon  the  poor 
lads  at  Bull  Run  !  He  was  almost  vain  of  his  command 
— handsome  fellows !  and  to  think  of  leaving  them 
upon  the  field  ! 

Their  rolicking  jokes,  old  ones,  repeated  for  the  sake 
of  old  times,  how  old !  were  uttered  with  grim  efforts 
at  smiles,  but  the  voice  was  not  false  to  the  heart. 
That  quivered  and  thrilled,  not  to  fear,  but  to  the  prob- 
abilities of  their  fate. 

Not  that  New  England  soldiers  carry  away  unwilling 
souls,  but  the  thrilling  story  of  disaster  had  sped  over 
the  land,  and  too  many  hearts  were  writhing  in  certain 
sorrow,  and  many  were  yet  waiting  for  the  possible 
tidings  of  loss ;  and  these  constrained  Northerners  are 
tender  and  pitiful,  albeit  sometimes  wordless  to  those 


28  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

who  wait  and  grieve,  and  they  feel  too,  the  great  throb- 
bing pain  that  indignation  brings  to  loyal  men,  when 
they  lift  their  eyes  to  the  banner  they  have  always 
reverenced. 

But  merriment  helped  them  bear  it  better,  and  so 
they  jested  over  their  future,  and  wondered  who  would 
come  back  again  to  the  sweet  homes  where  peace 
brooded  always. 

The  tented  field,  and  the  preparation  for  contest,  the 
drilling  under  a  scorching  sun,  and  the  bugle  calls 
broke  in  upon  their  old  ways  and  grooved  habits,  which 
seemed  tame  and  monotonous  in  the  retrospective. 
Close  friendships  were  closer,  and  their  hearts  grew  so 
big  that  there  was  room  for  a  whole  regiment  in  each. 
How  they  consecrated  themselves  to  their  country,  and, 
perhaps,  if  the  truth  were  fully  told,  they  somehow 
mingled  in  a  vague  way,  their  colonel  and  country 
together,  for  they  were  proud  in  their  love  for  him,  the 
grand  man ! 

The  days  about  the  Capitol  were  few,  and  letters 
went  back  to  tell  of  love  and  safety,  and  then  came  the 
thrilling  order  to  march  ! 

It  was  deep  twilight,  and  the  morning's  bugle  would 
reiterate  the  startling  order.  Every  man  had  complet- 
ed preparations,  and  the  musings,  which  by  some  un- 
explained power,  always  come  in  the  dark,  fell  upon  the 
waiting  men.  Even  the  officers,  with  northern  prompt- 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  29 

ness,  were  ready,  and  felt  the  leisure  almost  painful,  but 
pleasant  memories 

"  Swung  in  a  censer  to  a  sleepy  tune," 

soon  lured  them  to  soldier's  dreams. 

Colonel  Berry  sat  alone  in  his  quarters,  with  the  re- 
membrance of  home  mingling  with  his  pictures  of  the 
future,  when  his  sentinel  announced  a  visitor  desiring 
an  interview  upon  military  matters. 

The  graceful  army  salute,  and  the  handsome  face  of 
the  young  man  interested  the  officer  directly. 

The  young  gentleman  offered  a  letter,  and  stood  with 
his  lifted  cap  in  the  dim  light  of  a  swinging  lamp,  and 
for  a  moment  was  too  conscious  of  more  than  ordinary 
scrutiny,  but  a  will  of  unusual  power  kept  his  deep 
dark  eyes  steady,  and  the  quiver  that  swept  over  his 
clearly  cut  mouth  was  held  in  subjection. 

Whatever  thought  crossed  the  mind  of  the  colonel,  it 
was  quite  obliterated  by  his  surprise  and  distress  at  the 
contents  of  the  note. 


"  PHILADELPHIA,  July  25, 1861. 
"  COLONEL  BERRY  : 

"  My  dear  friend: 

"  I  know  this  missive  will  pain 
you,  but  you  will  comprehend  and  pardon  me. 

"  The  quiet  of  your  beautiful  home,  only  made  my  terrible  anx- 
iety for  the  future  and  its  possibilities  unendurable,  and  I  escaped, 
hoping  to  sooner  join  those  who  are  dearer  than  anything  save 
liberty.  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  frontier,  feeling  assured  of  my 
safety.  When  my  father  bade  me  await  his  arrival,  I  endeavored 

4* 


30  THE  SOY  IN  BL US. 

to  bo  obedient,  but  it  became  impossible.  With  your  northern 
calm,  which  comes  by  Christian  culture,  you  do  not  comprehend 
the  southern  temper,  and  its  ungoverned  expressions.  I  can  trust 
my  father's  coolness  and  determination,  but  my  former  friend, 
Ciirryl  Farnam,  has  carried  back  to  Tennessee  a  touch  of  passion- 
ate hate  that  may  fire  my  home,  and  perhaps  immolate  the  only 
two  whom  death  has  spared  to  me.  He  had  the  wickedness  to 
write  me  his  intended  course,  and  while  I  hope,  I  have  great  fear. 
I  would  not  have  stooped  to  write  ill  of  one  who  was  once  my  be- 
trothed, but  I  could  not  otherwise  excuse  myself  for  want  of  com- 
pliance to  the  wishes  of  yourself,  who  I  regard  as  a  sincere  and 
unchangeable  friend. 

"  The  bearer  of  this  note  is  an  early 'acquaintance  of  mine,  also 
an  exile.  He  is  true  to  the  core  of  his  heart,  to  the"  cause  to 
which  you  are  now  devoting  yourself.  For  my  sake,  could  you 
find  him  a  position  near  yourself,  I  am  sure  you  will  do  so.  He  is 
too  young  for  active  duty,  even  if  he  were  strong.  You  can,  if  you 
choose,  trust  him  to  perform  any  delicate  service,  no  matter  how 
dangerous.  He  has  been  carefully  educated,  and  would  relieve  you 
of  many  irksome  cares  if  you  feel  disposed  to  trust  him.  He  has 
means  at  his  command  to  procure  for  himself  any  necessaries,  and 
I  have  given  him  my  beautiful  saddle  horse  which  gave  you  so 
much  trouble  to  procure.  I  have  no  need  for  him  now,  and  some- 
times you  may  be  glad  of  a  swift  fide  upon  his  back — toward  the 
enemy — I  will  hope. 

"  You  perceive,  I  am  writing  as  if  the  matter  was  settled,  and 
Eingold  had  already  assumed  the  position  of  aid  and  servant,  so 
sure  am  I  of  your  willingness  to  grant  any  favor  I  may  ask,  that  is 
consistent  with  your  duty. 

"  You  shall  hear  from  me  whenever  it  is  possible,  and  God  keep 
you  safely  in  the  storm  of  battle,  and  in  the  quiet  of  your  tent,  for 
your  mother's  sake  and  for  your  friends. 

"EEMYST.  EEMY." 

For  a  moment  he  could  only  comprehend  that  she 
was  gone,  and  through  a  desire  to  spare  him  pain,  had 
neither  told  him  how  or  when,  and  the  contemplation 
was  agonizing.  He  crushed  the  letter  in  his  hand,  and 
rising,  faced  the  waiting  stranger,  and  then  remembered 
the  wish — the  last  one  of  "  the  little  saint." 


THE  BO  Y  IN  £L  UK  31 

He  reached  out  his  hand,  and,  with  a  tremulous  voice, 
welcomed  young  Ringold,  and  with  no  formality  of  ar- 
rangement or  questioning,  said  : 

"  It  is  settled.  If  you  will  remain  with  me,  I  will 
make  it  a  mutual  servitude.  A  friend's  friend  is  mine. 
Your  duties  will  sometimes  be  to  endure,  more  than  to 
perform.  Have  you  strength  for  long  and  rapid  rides 
over  the  wild  hills,  and  more  especially  through  the 
swamps  of  Virginia?" 

"  A  Tennessean  is  cradled  in  the  saddle.  I  think  my 
endurance  equal  to  even  a  hardier  looking  New  Eng- 
lander.  I  could  not,  perhaps,  swing  a  sabre  as  well,  but 
I  could  hold  a  rein,  or  keep  my  saddle  many  an  hour 
without  weariness." 

"  How  long  have  you  known  Miss  St.  Remy  ?" 

"  Always.  Our  childhood  was  together.  We  are 
very  nearly  of  an  age.  We  were  abroad  at  the  same 
time.  My  father  is  an  Unionist,  and  so  is  hers.  It  was 
her  wish  that  I  should  be  with  you,  and  she  proposed 
the  plan,  and  even  procured  my  pretty  blue  outfit,  and 
gave  me  her  beautiful  horse,  re-christening  him  for  my 
service  and  for  yours.  She  called  him  '  Victory'  !" 

Colonel  Berry  looked  earnestly  at  the  handsome  boy 
who  shared  so  much  of  Miss  St.  Remy's  care,  and  won- 
dered no  more  at  her  special  interest  in  the  lad,  he  was 
so  delicately  organized,  and  so  intrepid  in  his  appear- 
ance. 

His  dark  short  curls  and  low  white  forehead  ;   his 


32  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

deep  earnest  eyes  which  now  and  then  opened  wide  with 
a  flash  like  a  lightning  gleam  over  a  summer  cloud,  and 
then  closed  into  a  soft  quietude ;  his  beardless  lips  like 
cut  coral  over  his  pearly  teeth,  now  tightening  into  en- 
ergy and  determination,  and  then  curling  into  a  genial 
smile  alternately. 

"  Could  you  fight  your  southern  people  if  the  fate  of 
war  should  bring  you  face  to  face  with  the  enemy  7" 

The  young  brow  drooped  for  an  instant,  and  a  white 
film  fell  over  it  like  a  veil  of  mortal  terror,  but  it 
cleared  like  a  mist  in  a  morning  wind,  and  the  slowly 
lifted  head  grew  firm  upon  his  handsome  shoulders,  and 
the  easy  posture  of  his  hands  changed  barely  enough  to 
bring  the  small  compact  muscle  into  relief,  and  his  voice 
deepened,  but  not  a  quiver  shook  its  music  as  he  re- 
plied very  deliberately : 

"I  could  defend  myself,  I  could  defend  you  against 
my  childhood's  dearest  friend.  I  could  send  to  a  quick 
death  the  man  who  should  make  a  secret  warfare 
against  our  Union,  but  I  could  not  fire  a  random  shot 
against  battalioned  Tennesseans.  You  know  there  are 
many  true  hearts,  who  to  save  life  and  their  households, 
have  been  marshaled  into  the  ranks  of  the  rebels.  Op- 
portunity will  prove  them  our  friends." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  searched  the  face  of  his 
superior.  The  lamp  was  dim,  and  the  colonel's  hand 
half  shaded  his  eyes.  Suspense  was  unendurable,  and 
the  lad  continued : 


THE  BO  T  IN  £L  US.  33 

"  You  cannot  think  me  disloyal  because  I  utter  such 
expressions  of  seeming  sympathy  with  the  South.  Every 
drop  of  kindred  blood  I  have,  throbs  in  Southern  veins. 
I  am  young,  and  stand  alone  on  this  side  of  the  grand 
division  of  a  once  united  country,  and,  Colonel  Berry,  I 
shall  stand  or  fall  where  I  now  am.  Do  you  believe 
this?" 

The  colonel  held  out  his  hand  again,  and  the  sup- 
pressed words  found  eloquent  expression  in  the  sharp 
yet  half  withheld  grasp  which  swallowed  up  the  small 
palm  of  the  young  aid. 

"  Your  hand  was  formed  for  peace,  and  your  words 
are  human,  Ringold,  but  there  is  power  and  principle  in 
your  voice  and  manner.  I  do  not  doubt  you.  I  could 
not  suspect  your  truth  any  more  than  I  could  suspect  the 
loyalty  and  truth  of  the  noble  woman  who  sent  you  to 
me.  I  thank  her  for  thinking  of  me,  and  you  for  coming. 
I  had  intended  to  select  some  one  from  the  ranks  to  be 
near  my  person,  but  you  leave  one  soldier  more  in  my 
brave  command.  We  move  to  the  front  at  the  reveille. 
There  must  be  some  military  formulas  observed  in  your 
movements,  and  they  must  be  attended  to  to-night.  I 
will  not  leave  you  behind.  Have  you  all  needful  per- 
sonal preparations  ?" 

"  All.  I  beg  pardon.  I  have  a  colored  valet,  and  I 
do  not  know  how  to  dispose  of  him.  He  is  reliable,  and 
can  adapt  himself  to  any  position  of  servitude.  He  vas 
reared  in  the  house,  and  can  perform  all  requirements 


34  THE  £OY  IN  ML  UE. 

that  could  possibly  be  made  upon  him,  and,  except  to 
keep  silence,  he  is  perfectly  obedient.  I  gave  him  his 
choice  between  freedom  and  the  South,  and  I  cannot  tell 
whether  it  was  liberty  or  the  promise  he  made  never  to 
leave  me,  that  decided  him.  He  gave  his  word  to  his 
mother,  who  was  my  nurse,  to  be  mine  always,  if  in  his 
power,  and  since  they  parted,  she  has  gone  where  there 
is  no  form  or  color,  and  the  promise  has  become  a  su- 
pernatural compact.  In  France  he  was  free  and  tempted. 
If  you  have  use  for  him,  he  is  strong  and  willing.  His 
falsehoods  are  infrequent  and  always  ludicrous,  and  his 
thieving  has  no  temptations  except  in  the  form  of  orna- 
ments or  table  luxuries,  both  of  which  will  scarcely 
come  in  his  way." 

A  moment's  reflection  decided  the  colonel,  and  the 
freed  man  was  henceforth  to  be  an  appendage  to  their 
novel  life. 

A  few  parting  words,  and  the  morning  saw  young 
Ringold  with  his  blue  tunic  and  short  full  pants  in  the 
saddle,  and  a  long  black  plume  fastened  with  a  silver 
star  to  the  graceful  hat  which  shaded  the  boyish  face  of 
the  young  soldier. 

You  would  have  guessed  that  a  woman  chose  the  cos- 
tume, so  perfect  and  elegant  in  its  detail, — and  been 
glad  that  strict  regulations  were  not  yet  made,  or  if 
they  had  been  brooded  and  hatched  in  military  brains, 
had  found  no  means  of  entire  promulgation. 

Victory  looked  as  if  he,  too,  had  enlisted.    His  hand- 


THE  BOY  IN  EL UE.  35 

some  head  was  higher  than  usual,  and  his  small  neat 
hoofs  touched  the  ground  proudly,  while  his  thin  nos- 
trils dilated  with  the  spirit  of  the  warlike  music  to 
which  he  stepped. 

The  night  had  been  spent  in  sleeplessness  by  the 
young  man,  and  even  the  servant  kept  his  black  eyelids 
wide  apart  while  listening  to  military  regulations  and 
instructions.  It  was  no  easy  thing  to  seperate  these  two 
who  were  bound  by  the  tie  of  isolation  and  a  common 
calamity. 

Jetty  was  to  follow  in  the  train,  and  when  they  en- 
camped, there  would  sometimes  be  leisure  for  giving 
now  and  then  an  hour  to  the  comfort  of  each  other. 
Jetty  could  not  quite  decide  to  be  subject  to  another's 
order,  and  in  his  own  mind  he  made  a  mental  reserva- 
tion in  his  new  vassalage,  that  he  would  give  "  Massa 
Ringold's  boots  the  best  licks,  and  his  dinner  de  best 
care." 

The  last  interview  was  like  that  of  friend  with  friend, 
as  they  were  hereafter  to  be,  though  the  inferior's  ex- 
pressions only  proved  an  equality  of  affection. 

"  Remember,  Jetty,  our  future  depends  very  much 
upon  how  we  do,  and  endure  now,  and  how  we  help  re- 
move our  poor  country's  misfortune.  You  see,  I  talk  to 
you  as  if  you  were  as  white  as  you  are  from  this  time 
free.  You  must  act  as  if  you  were  as  white  as  myself. 
You  will  sometime  thank  me  for  making  you  a  man," 
and  a  faint  smile  half  lit  up  the  face  of  the  speaker  and 


36  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

a  broad  grin  quite  illuminated  the  ebony  of  the  listener, 
as  both  thought  of  the  future  with  hope,  and  a  bit  of 
comicality  in  their  positions.  The  ludicrous  is  so  close 
upon  the  tragic,  that  a  smile  comes  to  strange  and  seri- 
ous positions  sometimes. 

"  Talk  little,  Jetty.  Be  obliging  and  helpful  to  all. 
You  are  strong,  but  if  you  get  ill,  or  too  weary,  I'll 
look  after  you.  Remember,  Jetty,  and  God  keep  us 
both." 

"  Amen  !  De  Lord  can  send  a  mighty  sight  bigger 
lot  of  trainers  to  ketch  us  if  dese  'ere  folks  go  for  to 
carry  us  de  wrong  way.  My !  Wouldn't  Mamma 
Cleopatra  flop  her  big  angel  wings  obur  us  two  if  any- 
thing was  goin  for  to  ketch  us  ?  'Pears  like  I  seed  her 
shiny  face  now,  lookin  right  out  of  a  crack  in  de  door 
of  de  hebenly  kingdom.  Mebby  like  it's  only  de  mornin 
coming  out  of  de  sky,  but  she's  dar,  sure,  and  she'll 
keep  a  mighty  sly  watch  of  dese  two  chillen.  Good  by 
— what  ye  call  you,  Ringold  ?  capin,  or  sumfin  1  Good 
by.  Here  goes  my  shoe  after  you." 

Ringold  was  touched,  even  comforted,  by  the  weird 
faith  of  Jetty,  and  his  face  was  lifted  upward  with  a 
strange  courage  and  hope.' 

The  long  line  of  infantry  defiled  over  the  river,  across 
which  so  many  had  passed  to  death  on  the  16th  and  17th 
of  July,  and  whose  fall  lay  like  the  cold  invisible  hand 
itself,  upon  a  thousand  hearts  that  must  still  beat  on, 
dulled  and  heavy.  All  thought  this,  though  thoy  laughed 


THE  EOY  IN  BL  UE.  37 

and  made  grim  jokes  of  the  military  procession  on  the 
return  from  Bull  Run. 

But  there  was  a  new  commander  now,  young  and  en- 
ergetic, a  man  who  said — "  We  have  had  our  last  retreat. 
We  have  seen  our  last  defeat.  You  stand  by  me  and  I 
will  stand  by  you,  and  henceforth  victory  will  crown  our 
efforts." 

The  general  kept  his  word  in  spirit,  but  the  power  was 
withheld,  and  history  shall  pronounce  sentence-  upon  the 
paltriness  of  personal  ambition,  and  the  inexpressible 
contempt  of  coming  years  shall  be  upon  the  recorded 
name  of  the  man  who  prevented  victory. 

The  officers  of  the  regiment  were  too  much  occupied 
with  their  cares,  to  give  many  thoughts  to  the  "  Boy 
in  Blue,"  as  he  was  designated,  for  want  of  a  proper 
name. 

"  How  finely  that  young  fellow  by  the  colonel  sits 
in  his  saddle  !"  said  Captain  Trissillian.  "  He  and  his 
horse  look  like  one  magnificent  creation.  Wouldn't 
they  be  beauties  in  bronze,  eh  ?  I  wonder  where  they 
were  got  up  ?  Enlisted  last  night,  or  joined  by  arrange- 
ment ?  The  colonel  is  as  frank  as  a  boy,  and  yet  as 
mysterious  as  the  black  statue  of  Mnfmosyne.  He's 
strange,  but  be  is  as  true  as  the  sun,  and  as  courageous 
as  the  Wolfe  of  Quebec.  He  reminds  me  of  that  gen- 
eral, as  he  seemed  to  my  boy's  fancy,  as  I  read  of  his 
life  and  death,  and  spelled  out  half  the  meaning  through 
great  tears.  I  suppose  many  of  the  world's  best  will 
3 


38  THE  BO  T  IN  £L  UE. 

fall  in  this  shameless  rebellion,  and  their  names  be  flung 
to  fame,  like  Caesar's  rent  mantle  to  the  populace,  to  in- 
cite  others  to  patriotic  self-abnegation.  Halt !  The 
colonel  is  coming  back  along  the  line,  and  the  '  Boy 
in  Blue'  by  his  side.  Handsome  as  a  woman  !  Looks 
like  a  foreigner.  A  lost  prince,  perhaps.  Look  at  that 
boot !  Silver  spurs  !" 

Captain  Trissilian  was  silent  as  the  two  rode  by,  and 
then  forgot  them  in  his  attention  to  his  company.  He 
was  a  jolly  fellow,  full  of  merry  life  when  there  was 
no  use  for  serious  endeavour,  but  a  worker  in  the  world 
when  the  play  was  over.  He  was  just  the  man  for  a 
soldier.  He  could  and  would  find  something  to  interest 
himself,  and  those  about  him,  and  make  merriment  of 
even  nothing.  He  was  not  a  happy  man,  for  he  had 
too  vivid  a  memory  of  suffering,  but  he  did  not  cast  his 
cloud  over  others. 

There  is  no  vacuity  for  some  souls.  They  fill  every 
space  with  beauty  and  every  silence  with  music.  Some- 
times the  tones  are  minor,  but  always  sweet. 

His  mother  had  died  at  sea,  after  the  exposure  of 
wreck,  and  one  of  the  seamen  had  taken  the  lad  to  his 
New  England  home,  and  given  him  all  that  it  is  gener- 
ally supposed  a  child  requires,  food,  raiment  and  a 
school-master.  He  had  never  been  tamed  to  the  staid 
ways  of  the  people  who  wished  to  be  kind  to  him,  an-1 
they  scarce  expected  it  of  him,  though  they  longed  to 
make  him  one  of  themselves.  He  had  different  blood, 


THE  BOY  IN  BL HE.  39 

and  his  foster-mother  comforted  herself  by  the  remarka- 
ble truism,  that  "  a  robin  couldn't  be  made  into  a  ban- 
tam, it  must  have  its  song  in  the  trees  of  a  rosy  morn- 
ing, and  not  just  cackle  down  on  the  pebbles  when  it  was 
going  to  rain." 

The  terrible  shock  of  wreck,  and  the  writhing  of  the 
waves  about  his  tender  limbs — then  the  separation  from 
his  only  friend,  produced  a  fevered  brain,  and  after  his 
slow  recovery,  he  could  recall  too  little  of  his  past  life 
to  benefit  those  who  would  have  sought  to  restore  him 
to  his  friends,  but  were  only  glad  that  they  could  retain 
him  in  their  own  hearts.  He  seemed  cast  into  their 
hands  by  the  storm,  a  child  of  the  sea.  He  remember- 
ed his  name  and  that  was  all,  and  with  a  childish  per- 
tinacity, would  answer  no  other.  Leon  Trissilian  be- 
gan, and  ended  his  appellation.  His  foster-father  and 
mother  had  written  it  with  Luke,  for  a  Christian  prefix, 
and  Barnes  for  a  domestic  addendum,  but  he  was 
always  seized  with  an  attack  of  deafness  whenever  he 
heard  the  sound.  It  was  his  only  offensive  stubborn- 
ness, and  though  it  caused  many  a  sleepness  night,  filled 
with  profound  inquiries,  self-instituted  and  always  un- 
answered, after  the  true  method  of  subjugation,  the  boj 
kept  his  name,  and  rewarded  by  affection  and  respect 
all  their  sacrifice  of  religious  principle  founded  upon 
Solomon's  precept.  It  is  very  remarkable  that  this  one 
bit  of  advice  should  have  been  such  a  favorite,  coming 
from  such  a  man,  whose  theories  nor  practices  would 


40  THE  iSOr  IN  BLUE. 

suit  the  advanced  state  of  Christianity.  Probably  this 
sentiment  is  preserved  as  one  does  an  ugly  relic,  simply 
because  the  ruin  of  which  it  was  a  portion,  belonged  to 
another  age.  If  that  sentiment  about  the  rod  could 
only  be  left  in  the  antiquity  where  it  belongs,  there 
would  be  better  and  far  manlier  boys. 

There's  a  sermon  at  daylight,  when  the  regiment  is 
on  the  march  ! 

But  to  go  back  for  one  word  more,  the  good  people 
of  the  village  said  he  must  be  conquered  or  he  was 
ruined,  but  had  you  seen  his  genial  face,  and  heard  the 
kindliness  which  filled  the  sound  of  his  voice  when  he 
spoke  to  his  men,  or  watched  his  Napoleonic  outline 
and  bearing,  you  would  have  been  sure  he  was  neither. 

His  compact  figure,  crowned  with  a  broad  white  full 
forehead,  rimmed  about  and  thatched  over  with  short 
crisp  brown  curls,  and  dark  clearly  defined  brows,  fit- 
ting over  deep  blue  eyes,  that  looked  black  when  they 
were  filled  with  emotion — a  lip  that  sometimes  contra- 
dicted and  sometimes  confirmed  the  promise  of  power 
in  the  upper  part  of  his  face,  but  which  was  fully  sub- 
stantiated by  the  testimony  of  a  nose  which  was  Roman 
to  perfection,  and  might  have  made  the  great  Napoleon 
dissatisfied  with  himself,  even  after  Marengo. 

Don't  be  skeptical,  for  who  is  there  who  does  not 
know  an  uncrowned  hero,  or  a  demi-god  who  will  have 
no  earthly  association  with  the  immortals,  except  in 
your  own  big  heart  and  clearer  perception  ?  Napoleons 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UK  4 1 

don't  always  find  a  command.  Subalterns  don't  always 
find  an  opportunity  for  recognition.  There  are  greater 
men  in  the  ranks  of  the  Northern  army  to-day,  than 
have  ever  worn  an  epaulette  or  even  a  chevron.  Be- 
lieve this.  The  ranks  hold  the  victories  in  their  staunch 
hearts,  and  muscular  arms. 

Presently,  back  rode  the  colonel  toward  the  head  of 
the  line  of  infantry,  and  halting  for  a  word  with  Captain 
Trissilian,  he  beckoned  to  his  aid,  and  presented  the 
two,  who,  in  his  admiration,  ranked  highest  of  all  that 
band  of  noble  fellows. 

Admiration  recognizes  no  period  for  its  growth. 
The  captain  had  the  root  of  a  lifetime  in  his  superior's 
heart,  but  the  other's  position  was  of  a  few  hours'  exist- 
ence yet  equally  strong,  though  not  alike. 

The  captain's  ungloved  hand  was  instantly  extended, 
forgetting  that  the  military  salute  which  returned  his 
recognition,  was  all  that  was  convenient  or  conventional 
on  such  an  occasion.  His  smile  of  pleased  appreciation 
was  unreturned  by  young  Ringold,  but  it  made  the  cap- 
tain's glance  the  keener,  and  his  quick  instinctive  per- 
ceptions saw  only  dignified  reticence  and  sorrow,  where 
others  would  have  perceived  hauteur. 

"  I  will  be  that  boy's  friend  always.  He  ?an  depend 
upon .  this  soldier,  poor  lad  !"  was  his  remark  to  Lieu- 
tenant King,  when  the  blue  aid  was  out  of  sight. 

The  colonel's  adjutant  looked  with  rather  an  unhappy 
fancy  upon  this  strange  addition  to  their  suite,  but  his 


3* 


42  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

face  cleared  after  a  few  explanatory  words  from  the 
colonel,  and  he  tried  in  vain  to  be  social  and  communi- 
cative to  the  lad. 

"  Too  deep  a  hurt  somewhere,  for  me  to  cure,"  Sur- 
geon Ainslee  said,  after  an  attempt  at  friendliness. 
"  The  wound  bleeds  internally.  Hope  I  shan't  have 
many  such  in  this  campaign.  They  are  almost  incura- 
ble. I  saw  some  such  after  Inker  man.  They  all  died. 
Had  one  case  that  kept  sleep  out  of  my  eyes  many  a 
night,  thinking  it  over.  This  one  was  pitiable — fetched 
in  for  dead.  Found  life,  and  brought  it  back  to  stay  a 
few  days,  but  there  was  not  any  wound  on  the  surface, 
at  least  no  blood.  Gave  wine  and  nourishment,  but 
the  patient  would  not,  or  could  not  swallow.  Couldn't 
give  much  special  care,  there  were  too  many  moaning 
for  help,  and  this  one  was  silent,  and  except  for  the 
way  the  lip  tightened,  and  the  eyes  turned  away,  should 
have  thought  him  comfortable.  Found  him  dead  one 
day,  and  wishing  to  satisfy  myself  that  it  had  been  no 
want  of  attention  on  my  part,  I  examined  the  body  and 
found" — here  the  surgeon  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands — "  a  young  girl.  She  had  papers  upon  her  per- 
son that  explained.  I  told  you  once  of  Sergeant  Mill- 
wood, of  the  87th,  how  he  fell  with  the  colors  in  his 
handsome  white  teeth,  having  lifted  them  from  the 
grasp  of  a  fallen  ensign.  He,  brave  fellow,  had  been 
wounded  in  the  neck,  and  his  hands  and  garments  were 
dripping  with  blood,  but  still  he  fought  on,  and  when 


TEE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  43 

the  colors  fell  at  his  side  he  lifted  them,  for  the  hand 
that  held  the  staff  was  his  sister's.  She  saw  death  com- 
ing to  his  faceand  she  fell,  but  there  was  no  wound 
except  in  her  heart.  I  could  not  have  saved  her,  but  1 
saw  her  buried  in  a  box  with  the  sergeant.  It  is  the  one 
good  thing  of  my  life.  I  know  the  colonel  will  cure  that 
lad  if  anybody  can.  He  cured  me  of  something  worse 
the  winter  we  were  in  Leipsic  together,  and  I  followed 
him  to  this  country  as  a  spaniel  would  his  master.  I'd 
die  sooner  than  leave  Colonel  Berry.  There  hasn't  been 
many  such  men  finished.  Nature  gets  in  such  a  hurry- 
sometimes,  that  she  leaves  her  work  in  a  very  incomplete 
condition.  Nothing  requires  retouching  about  that 
man.  I  am  glad  I  found  him.  He  keeps  my  faith  firm 
in  human  goodness  on  this  earth,  which,  by  the  way,  is 
a  very  good  sort  of  a  one — better  than  on  the  other 
side  of  the  salt  pond,  let  me  assure  you.  That  is  too 
old.  Its  sins  have  festered,  and  its  evils  are  contagious 
epidemics.  Sporadic  wrongs  spread  here  though,  faster 
than  the  preachers  can  hinder.  Tell  you  what,  Mr. 
Chaplain,  you'll  have  to  be  a  dead  shot,  to  keep  down 
the  enemy  in  camp.  You  are  fresh,  and  don't  know 
what  soldier-life  generates.  It's  a  big  crucible,  and  a 
sure  one.  The  gold  will  show  and  there  won't  be  so 
much  as  you  calculate,  either.  Am  sorry  to  say  it,but 
I  know.  There's  Trissilian,  no  dross  about  him.  Hope 
he  won't  be  shot.  Should  hate  to  take  a  leg  off  that 
man.  That  boy  looks  like  the  captain,  only  their  color 


44  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  VE. 

is  different.  Both  are  Frenchmen,  or  I'm  no  judge  of 
nationality,  and  both  trumps,  beg  your  pardon,  I  am 
not  much  used  to  the  clergy,  that  is,  the  American  style 
of  cloth.  .  The  English  chaplains  are  the  jolliest  and 
laziest,  but  I  wouldn't  like  to  say,  the  best  set  of  men 
in  Her  Majesty's  service.  If  I  had  no  self-respect,  I'd 
like  to  wear  a  gown  on  some  outpost  of  the  British 
army — in  peace.  Trumps,  is  a  familiar  expression  to 
the  parson  on  the  other  side." 

"March,"  had  only  meant  that  Colonel  Berry's 
troops  should  enter  Virginia,  and  take  a  position  on 
Arlington  Heights,  for  a  time,  but  it  was  a  forward 
movement,  and  they  were  to  be  at  the  out-post  of  a 
long  line  of  hastily  constructed  fortifications,  and  the 
outer  guard  to  the  Nation's  Capitol.  Camp  life  began 
here  in  holiday  style,  but  the  men  were  restless  in  their 
idleness,  and  the  chaplain  did  have  enough  to  do,  and 
he  was  not  a  "  dead  shot,"  so  Colonel  Berry  had  double 
duty  to  perform — to  command  and  drill  his  men,  and 
keep  the  chaplain  in  clerical  self-respect. 


THE  BOY  IN  SLUE.  45 


CHAPTER  III. 

SECRET     SERVICE. 

"I  hate  the  dreadful  hollow  behind  the  little  wood, 
It8  lips  in  the  field  above  are  dappled  with  blood  red-henth, 

And  red-ribbed  ledges  drip  with  a  silent  horror  of  blood, 
And  Echo  there,  whatever  is  asked  her,  answers  'Death  !'  " 

RINGOLD  said  this  over  a  thousand  times  to  himself 
in  those  days  so  idle  to  him  in  his  impatience.  Others 
drilled,  paraded  in  dress  uniform,  performed  sham  bat- 
tles, and  did  many  things  to  fill  the  dread  monotony, 
but  except  the  writing,  and  keeping  Victory  within  a 
curb,  and,  now  and  then,  a  long  tour  of  inspection  with 
the  colonel,  there  seemed  nothing,  absolutely  nothing. 

To  be  sure,  the  little  touches  and  attentions  he  gave 
to  his  officer's  portable  home,  occupied,  now  and  then, 
an  hour,  but  this  was  so  little  in  the  days — the  long 
days  of  suspense.  The  delicacy  of  Colonel  Berry's  tent 
proved  that  nothing  could  crowd  the  sesthetic  out  of 
Ringold's  nature,  any  more  than  the  occupant  could 


46  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

thrust  the  "Boy  in  Blue"  out  of  his  heart.  Mosses 
dotted  the  floors,  and  winter  foliage  hinted  a  dream  of 
blossoms  by  their  graceful  minglement  of  form  and 
color. 

Ringold's  own  tent,  with  its  white-fall  looped  back 
with  scarlet  tassels  when  the  sunshine  came  for  a  visit, 
and  the  spotless  cover  to  the  camp-bed,  with  its  close 
snowy  drapery  falling  at  night-time  about  its  tiny  pro- 
portions, and  the  folded  cot  of  Jetty,  ready  to  do  guard 
duty  before  the  entrance  when  the  master  slept,  told  the 
story  of  refinement  that  no  circumstance  could  change, 
however  readily  he  might  brave  trial  or  endure  the  hard 
life  of  a  soldier. 

Whether  he  was  a  hero  of  choice  or  circumstance 
could  not  be  judged  by  the  contrast  between  his  tent, 
and  its  tiny  round  table  of  exquisite  bits  of  china,  upon 
which  Jetty  served  delicate  food  at  odd  unemployed 
hours,  and  the  flash  of  eagerness  with  which  he  under- 
took a  perilous  and  wearisome  expedition. 

No  courteous  urging  ever  induced  him  to  accept  an 
invitation  to  dine  with  an  officer.  Some  thought  him 
timid,  till  his  haughty  bearing  contradicted  the  thought, 
and  all  felt  his  silent  endurance  of  some  mysterious 
sorrow. 

Now  and  then  a  storm  of  Jetty's  conjuring,  was  to 
lull,  and  a  sermon  to  follow.  Besides,  there  was  a  lesson 
in  the  primer  every  day,  for  which  Jetty  dressed  in  the 
full  uniform  of  an  immense  brooch  and  three  bright 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  47 

metal  rings,  and  called  it  dress  parade,  or  inspection 
drill,  and  afterwards  informed  any  one  to  whom  he 
dared  offer  a  remark,  that  he  was  detailed.  This  made 
up  the  days.  Jetty  felt  almost  white  when  he  had  mas- 
tered the  soft  book,  and  arrived  at  hard  covers,  and 
thought  of  becoming  a  missionary  to  the  heathen  white 
people  of  Tennessee,  who  could  not  read,  and  who  ex- 
cited his  sympathy  and  contempt. 

A  strange  and  strong  friendship  had  grown  up  in 
these  months  between  Captain  Trissilian  and  Ringold — 
though  reticent  upon  the  part  of  the  latter,  but  full  of 
frank  confidence  from  the  captain,  who  quite  overlooked 
the  way  in  which  the  boy  covered  the  past  in  his  his- 
tory, because  he  too,  could  go  back  in  memory  to  a 
time  of  which  to  utter  a  word  would  bring  fearful  pain. 
The  captain  never  mentioned  his  own  family  relations, 
and  all  the  more  pitied  the  silence  which  lay  over  the 
past  in  the  lad's  life. 

The  surgeon  sometimes  speculated  upon  the  "  Boy  in 
Blue,"  and  brightened  a  little,  and  said  he  was  mend- 
ing, but  oftener  shook  his  great  tumbled  head  and  put 
his  forefinger  over  his  own  left  breast  pocket,  remark- 
ing with  a  professional  tap : 

"  Here,  chronic.  No  help  from  surgeons  or  physi- 
cians. Cases  of  this  kind  are  always  beyond  medical 
or  surgical  comprehension.  Needs  active  life.  Will 
die  in  this  waiting,  but  the  general  can't  move,  they 
won't  let  let  him,  the  cowards  !  Wonder  he  don't  die 


48  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE. 

too,  or  resign.  Chronic  inactivity  is  at  the  capita],  and 
the  cabinet  have  it  terribly.  Wish  they  would  send 
for  me.  Something  acute  would  take  place  in  twenty- 
four  hours." 

They  didn't,  and  so  the  autumn  crept  over  the  city, 
surrounded  with  white  canvas  cones,  covering  idle  men, 
longing  for  anything  rather  than  stupid  stillness,  but 
the  time  was  not  all  lost,  though  some  fainted  and  fell 
even  at  rest,  and  were  sent  home  for  burial. 

It  was  bitter  cold  in  the  earliest  of  the  winter  weather, 
and  the  moonless  night  sank  over  the  blue  ridge  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  left  only  the  glimmer  of  the  white  frost,  and 
the  clear  lines  of  starlight  to  make  visible  the  pathway 
from  Washington  to  Leesburg. 

It  is  a  wild  delightful  route  in  the  summer,  when 
peace  and  pretty  blossoms,  and  the  gurgle  of  innumera- 
ble streams  make  beauty  and  music  all  the  way  ;  but 
at  night,  with  cold  and  clustered  pickets,  and  darkness 
and  silence,  with  the  enemy  before,  and  the  bold  bluffs 
between  one  and  safety,  there  is,  perhaps,  not  fear,  but 
a  strange  inclination  of  the  heart  to  drum  out  a  retreat 
if  the  will  submits;  but  it  did  not,  and  a  bold  rider 
crept  cautiously  up  the  cliff  and  down  the  road  towards 
Leesburg.  A  swift  light  hoof  trod  into  the  brown 
earth  the  brittle  blades  of  grass,  and  made  scarce  a 
sound.  Into  the  woods  at  last  the  rider  entered,  and 
dismounting,  threw  the  rein  loosely  over  the  neck  of 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  49 

his  animal,  and  tying  a  knot  in  the  scarlet  ribbon, 
stroked  his  sides  and  uttered  a  few  low  pet  words,  and 
laid  his  head  close  up  to  his  soft  glossy  mane,  and  then 
with  a  keen  look  to  shape  the  dim  surroundings  in  his 
memory,  should  he  ever  return  again,  started  for  the 
distant  camp-fires.  Once  only  he  stopped  and  looked 
back  into  the  darkness  of  the  thick  wood,  with  a  shud- 
der of  pain  at  separating  from  the  mute  partner  of  his 
perils,  then  for  a  moment  turned  back  and  caressed  the 
dumb  friend,  while  the  dull  throbbing  agony  at  his 
heart  was  tolling  the  old  peal  of  wordless  suffering 
which  he  thought  might  be  hushed  for  ever  this  night, 
or  be  allayed  in  part,  by  absorbing  service. 

It  was  a  wonderful  fate  that  led  him  back  into  the 
shadow,  for  but  a  moment  elapsed  when  from  a  sharp 
turn  in  the  road,  a  guard  of  mounted  pickets  galloped 
by,  as  if  taking  a  large  circle  around  their  encampment. 

An  inspiration  flashed  through  young  Ringold's 
thoughts.  He  led  Victory  from  his  hiding  place,  and 
facing  the  camp,  gave  a  signal  which  the  animal  com- 
prehended as  fully  as  if  he  carried  a  soul  in  his  hand- 
some heart,  and  had  received  a  military  order.  Swiftly 
he  clattered  over  the  frozen  wajs,  with  a  marvelous 
flourish  of  limb  and  a  keen  relish  for  the  seeming  free- 
dom of  secret  service. 

Ringold  sped  after,  and  with  a  hurried  order  to  the 
sentinel  to  stop  the  flying  animal,  which  he  knew 
5 


50  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

neither  would  or  could  be  obeyed,  he  passed  without 
the  usual  cry  of  "  Halt !  Countersign  !"  which  had 
been  the  dread  of  his  expedition. 

All  the  soldiery  were  long  since  in  their  blankets, 
and  dreaming  of  peace  and  the  better  days  gone  by,  but 
the  rebel  General  Evans'  tent  was  lighted  and  filled 
with  consulting  officers. 

As  if  Victory  was  guided  by  the  will  of  his  master, 
he  made  a  circuit  around  the  sentinels  and  passed  to  the 
rear  of  the  lighted  tent,  turning  now  this  and  now  that 
way  in  the  darkness,  and  was  visible  only  here  and 
there  as  the  camp-fires  shone  upon  his  ebony  figure ; 
but  the  music  of  his  flying  hoofs  kept  his  locality  dis- 
cernible. 

After  a  time  he  was  silent,  and  the  sentinel's  thoughts 
went  back  to  his  morrow's  chances,  as  each  day  held  a 
promise  of  something  that  startled  his  tired  fancy  into 
a  momentary  thrill,  and  then  died  into  stupor.  If  he 
thought  of  the  supposed  dismounted  picket,  it  was  to 
conclude  he  had  captured  the  animal  and  joined  his 
party. 

Close  to  the  tented  home  of  the  commanding  officer, 
where  a  small  hand  could  lift  its  swaying  borders,  and 
look  into  the  faces  of  the  consulting  group,  lay  young 
Ringold.  It  was  his  first  secret  service. 

He  once  detested  such  modes  of  circumvention,  but 
times  had  changed,  and  necessities  made  contemptible 
acts  in  peace,  noble  ones  in  war,  and  such  a  war  too,  as 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  US.  51 

our  own !  He  had  been  too  late  to  hear  the  leading  pur- 
poses— the  initiatory  of  their  movements,  but  the  con- 
certed plans  lay  in  ink  upon  the  camp  table.  Dare  he 
risk  the  return  of  the  pickets  by  waiting  till  General 
Evans  had  fallen  asleep  ?  There  was  a  strange  quiver 
in  his  heart  as  the  picture  of  his  fate  floated  over  his 
vision,  but  the  future  !  He  must  forget  the  present  and 
take  the  risks.  He  thought  of  his  father,  who  he  feared 
was  lying  in  a  confederate  cell,  and  his  white  teeth  set 
together  firmly,  and  his  small  hands  sought  the  touch  of 
his  side-arms,  and  he  lay  still,  and  patient  upon  the  fro- 
zen earth.  An  hour  bore  a  century's  dull  weight  of 
time,  but  the  long  draught  of  nightly  poison  was  swal- 
lowed be  each  officer — a  rough  parting  word  was  said, 
and  sleep  finished  them  for  that  night,  and  thrust  tri- 
umph away  from  their  arms  forever  ! 

Slowly,  and  dreamily,  the  sentinels  paced  backward 
and  forward,  and  as  slowly  the  lithe  figure  crept  past  the 
opening  of  the  tent,  and  swiftly  through  the  parted  can- 
vas, with  not  a  rustle — gathered  the  papers  as  noiselessly 
but  as  deliberately  as  if  they  were  strewn  fragments  of 
tender  thought  which  one  half  resolves  to  bury  in  the 
blaze,  and  yet  the  reluctance  to  part  this  one  tangible 
connection  with  a  broken  life,  holds  the  hand.  Perhaps 
for  a  moment  the  thought  that  amnesty  to  political  pris- 
oners would  save  his  household,  if  this  plan  which  he  held 
in  his  throbbing  palm  were  successful,  made  him  stand 
under  that  swinging  lamp  irresolute,  and  forgetful  of 


52  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

the  danger  of  his  position,  but  the  temptation  passed, 
and  he  said  in  his  soul : 

"  Not  at  such  a  price  !"  and  dropped  to  his  old  posi- 
tion, and  crept  cautiously  out  into  the  night.  Scarcely 
had  he  passed  the  patrol  when  he  heard  in  the  distance 
the  coming  of  the  mounted  guard. 

Life  or  death  was  in  the  next  two  minutes,  and  more 
than  the  value  of  a  million  lives  and  deaths  lay  in  the 
same  brief  space  of  time.  A  low  quick  call — a  mingling 
of  the  ring  of  other  hoofs  with  the  advancing  group, 
and  sooner  than  the  sound  Halt !  could  be  given,  Vic- 
tory stood  by  his  master  and  the  saddle  was  reached, 
and  thea  a  fierce  rattle  of  sentinels'  musketry — the 
flash  and  thud  of  bullets  sounded  the  second  halt ! 
with  terrible  emphasis,  and  then  more  great  drops  of 
lead  patter  on  his  pathway,  but  a  strong  arm  shields 
him — he  is  mailed,  steel-plated  by  the  God  of  Battles 
for  future  glorious  purposes,  and  the  deathly  hail 
does  not  reach  him.  The  mounted  ten,  follow  quickly, 
but  their  worn  animals  were  never  christened  by  an 
Union  woman,  and  consecrated  to  God  and  her  country. 

They  pushed  their  sharp  spurs  rowel  deep  into  the 
flanks  of  their  horses,  but  the  flying  Blue-bird  swept  over 
the  space  with  an  appalling  speed — holding  the  white 
treasure  in  a  close  grasp,  and  keeping  the  knotted  rein 
in  the  other  'till  near  the  bluff— terrible  Ball's  Bluff!— 
and  then  thrusting  his  filled  hand  into  the  breast  of  his 
tunic,  tightened  his  girdle. 


TEE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  53 

Down  the  bold  steep  he  sped,  but  the  riders  behind 
were  gallant  fellows  and  used  to  the  wild  ways  of  a 
wilder  south  country,  and  dared  anything  that  man  dare 
do.  They  sought  after  him  with  the  last  roused  ener- 
gies of  blooded  hearts,  and  the  terrible  fear  of  what 
might  come  of  this  bold  night-raid  to  the  Leesburg  en- 
campment. 

One  brave  fellow  led  the  rest  by  a  dozen  rods,  and 
when  the  swift  current  of  the  Potomac  would  seem  to 
be  a  barrier  over  which  no  man  would  dare  venture, 
the  loose  reins  of  young  Ringold  expressed  the  will  of 
a  fearless  soldier,  and  a  plunge  into  the  tide,  a  moment's 
sinking,  and  then  a  struggle  for  life  and  land.  Never 
faltering,  the  white  curl  of  the  eddies  held  their  progress, 
but  not  entirely.  The  cold  leap  chilled  only  the  outer 
life,  the  heart  beat  quick  and  strong.  Death  must  call 
some  helping  element  to  conquer  these  two.  Life 
would  not  be  plucked  out  by  the  anger  of  the  water 
which  whirled  them  down  toward  the  end  of  the  distant 
island.  The  moon,  full,  round  and  white,  seemed  like 
the  stare  of  a  mid-day  sun,  as  it  stood  suddenly  upon 
the  forehead  of  the  mountain.  Three  times  they  tried 
to  gain  the  shore,  and  fell  back  into  the  hurrying  water. 
Then,  with  a  bravo  !  from  his  master,  the  horse  stood 
with  every  muscle  rounded  out,  upon  the  firm  land,  a 
hero.  Victory ! 

Ringold's  heart  beat  too  quick  with  the  swift  ride, 
and  the  swifter  thoughts  of  the  last  hours  to  be  con- 
5* 


54  THE  BOY  IN  BL UK 

scious  of  the  chill  of  his  plunge,  and  he  felt  in  his  breast 
for  his  wealth  of  knowledge,  and  finding  it  safe  under 
his  rubber  blouse,  he  became  conscious  that  another 
was  leaping  upon  the  beach  a  little  further  down,  and  a 
cry  of  agony  followed,  as  of  one  in  deadly  peril  and 
deadly  need.  He  looked  across  the  hundred  yards  of 
swift  water  and  saw  the  group  waiting  upon  the  other 
shore.  What  was  the  sound  ?  Human,  surely.  He 
forgot  all  in  quick  humanity,  and  riding  down  the  slope 
to  a  lower  point,  he  saw  a  hand  grasping  an  overhanging 
laurel,  but  a  horse  was  drifting  down  the  rapid  river. 

When  Ringold  was  sure  the  laurel  was  all  that  was 
required,  he  drew  his  revolver  from  its  belt,  and  wait- 
ing 'till  the  unhorsed  soldier  was  upon  the  firm  earth, 
he  gave  the  order  to  surrender. 

"  Why  not  ?"  was  the  half-sullen  yet  facetious  an- 
swer. "  Those  paltry  fellows  might  have  followed,  and 
then  the  order  would  have  come  from  another  com- 
mander. They  grew  too  far  north— they  are  cowards." 

"  I  am  a  federal  soldier.  Am  I  a  coward  ?  Speak 
it,  if  you  dare  !" 

"  Rather  an  unfair  question,  when  I  have  been  under 
water.  If  rny  powder  was  dry,  we'd  try  a  target.  I'd 
take  you,  and  I  am  sure  you  would  be  welcome  to 
make  a  bull's-eye  of  me.  It's  devilish  cold,  and  a  trifle 
wet.  I  don't  mind  if  you  fire  now.  My  thoroughbred 
has  gone  to  a  horse  heaven,  and  I  am  very  little  conse- 
quence to  the  confederate  service  without  him.  I 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE.  55 

brought  that  beast  from  Tennessee,  and  he  hadn't  a 
superior  among  even  the  soldiery,  not  to  mention  the 
animals,  who  have  been  conscripted.  Come,  if  I  am 
your  prisoner,  give  the  order  to  march." 

There  had  been  a  swifter  flight  of  thought  in  the 
mind  of  Ringold  than  the  whirl  down  the  bluffs,  while 
that  strange  and  unmistakable  voice  rang  upon  the  early 
morning  wind.  He  went  back  to  his  beautiful  home 
and  sat  under  the  shelter  of  the  dear  old  roof,  and 
peace  was  there,  and  merry  groups  were  knotted  about 
the  hospitable  rooms,  but  the  merriest  there,  the  best 
of  all  those  good  fellows  had  been  this  one,  and  his 
marvelous  tones  had  sent  contagious  laughter  rippling 
from  every  lip. 

"  Carryl  Farnam,  you  are  the  prisoner  of  a  Tennes- 
seean,  and  a  loyal  one.  You  do  not  know  me,  nor  will 
I  tell  you  my  name.  I  would  not  risk  being  labeled 
spy,  and  advertised  in  your  wicked  journals.  I  may 
wish  to  do  my  country  secret  service  again,  and  I  should 
not  like  a  description  of  my  person,  and  you  may 
thank  fate  and  not  myself,  for  liberty.  I  shall  leave 
you.  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  For  God's  sake  give  me  one  moment.  I  am  alone. 
You  need  not  fear  me." 

"  Fear  you  !  I  do  not  know  what  the  word  means. 
Would  I  be  here  to-night  if  I  did  ?  You,  poor  brag- 
garts, claim  the  chivalry  of  the  land  —  claim  even 
superior  heroism  in  your  beasts.  Mine  reached  the 


56  THE  BOY  IN  HL UE. 

shore  with  northern  blood  and  northern  breeding, 
while  yours — perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if  you 
were  with  him.  Sometime  we  may  meet  again,  and  if 
we  do,  I'll  tell  you  of  this  night,  and,  remember,  you 

were  in  my  power  once,  and my — powder — was — 

dry !" 

Ringold  crossed  Harrison's  Island,  and  once  more 
gave  Victory  the  rein,  and  a  plunge  into  the  stream, 
wider  by  double  the  distance  than  the  last  perilous  cros- 
sing, but  it's  a  still,  sluggish  expanse  that  was  navigated 
with  safety. 

"  He  carried  a  pass  from  the  commander-in-chief,  and 
hurried  down  the  Maryland  side  of  the  river,  a  weary 
ride  of  thirty  miles  and  more,  and  found  General 
McClellan  waiting  his  return,  or  perhaps  grieving  over 
the  probable  fate  of  the  brave  young  soldier. 

The  interview  was  brief,  but  the  plans  of  the  enemy 
whitened  the  lips  of  the  general,  and  when  he  would 
have  thanked  the  lad  he  could  not  utter  a  word,  but  his 
silent  grasp  of  the  little  hand,  was  eloquent. 

The  drafts  and  plans  and  orders  brought  from  the 
enemy  by  the  Boy  in  Blue,  saved  our  National  Capitol ! 
History  will  reveal  how  it  all  happened,  but  it  would  be 
a  useless  risk  of  life  to  explain  it  now. 

Carryl  Farnam  trusted  to  the  dimness  of  the  dawn 
and  the  deep  shadow  of  trees  which  lay  where  the  moon- 
light  could  not  touch,  and  returned  by  the  help  of  his 
fellows  in  the  full  day,  a  hero !  for  following  the  young 


THE  BO  Y  AY  BL  UE.  57 

spy,  who  he  claimed  to  have  thrust  under  the  swift  cur- 
rent, and  saved  the  grand  army's  strategy  from  expo- 
sure. He  was  promoted  to  a  colonelcy  for  bravery  and 
important  service. 

For  months  there  had  been  seeming  idleness  in  and 
about  the  beleaguered  city,  but  it  was  a  needed  linger- 
ing. 

There  was  a  great  army  of  our  enemy  only  waiting 
for  a  time  that  never  came,  when  their  intentions  could 
be  carried  out. 

Every  feint  was  comprehended  by  what  seemed  to 
them,  a  supernatural  information. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  McClellan  was  christened  the 
"  Little  Devil"  by  the  rebels,  but  his  supernatural 
perceptions  could  have  been  explained  by  the  Boy  in 
Blue. 


58  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AMONG     ENEMIES. 

"  There  rises  in  my  heart  an  awful  fear, 
Lest  from  those  evils  darker  evils  come, 

For  heaven  exacts  for  wrong  the  uttermost  tear, 
And  death  hath  language  after  life  is  dumb." 

IT  was  early  spring,  and  yet  the  deep  valleys  of  the 
Tennessee  river  were  draped  in  blossoms,  and  flushed 
with  the  promise  of  the  coming  summer.  Upon  the 
mountains  there  were  hiding  places  where  the  winter 
airs  yet  lingered,  but  the  sunshine  stationed  its  videttes 
at  the  very  outposts,  to  signal  and  guard  the  buds  that 
opened  their  sweet  eyes  too  soon. 

Tenderly  had  nature  cradled  the  children  of  this  val- 
ley, but  they  had  grown  into  rebellion,  as  if  the  wicked 
spirits  of  the  air  had  looked  down  upon  the  beautiful 
land  and  entered  and  possessed  its  inhabitants.  It  will 
never  be  comprehended  unless  the  old  faith  in  retribu- 
tion makes  these  strange  manifestations  of  evil  under- 
stood. 

There  are  laws  which  must  be  obeyed — laws  of  hu- 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE.  59 

manity — if  one  of  which  is  broken,  the  after  years  will 
inevitably  punish. 

Chattanooga  was  built  upon  wickedness,  and  justice 
has  meeted  punishment.  The  marshaled  hosts  of  seces- 
sia  have  fallen  upon  its  bosom,  and  victorious  federal 
troops  have  trodden  them  into  the  dust.  The  land  has 
been  flooded  with  the  blood  of  brothers,  and  its  crescent 
of  hills  been  red  with  the  tide  of  ebbing  life.  Its  val- 
leys have  been  slippery  with  the  slime  of  festering 
soldiery,  and  loathsome  with  the  pestilent  odor  of 
death.  Haggard  eyes  and  wild  hollow  voices  have 
looked  and  called  unanswered  to  the  sleepless  heavens 
for  help.  Languid  lips  have  sobbed  in  vain  for  one 
drop  of  water — have  called  in  such  fearful  agony 
for  a  touch  of  a  far  off  hand  that  the  distant  heart 
leagues  away,  has  lifted  itself,  and  answered,  and  then 
wondered  who  asked  for  them.  When  the  voice  was 
remembered,  the  space  could  not  be  annihilated. 

The  sky  was  filled  with  the  glare  of  cannon,  and  the 
mountains  answered  each  other  with  the  doom  of  a 
thousand  men,  in  a  word.  Broken  trees,  maimed  in 
mid  glory,  their  swaying  arms  rent  away  and  hurled  in 
wild  wrath  at  the  valley  whose  old  name  was  for- 
gotten. The  crimson  rain  became  a  crimson  drouth, 
and  the  wild  agony  was  stifled  in  dreary,  lonely  deaths. 
Is  the  retribution  completed?  Only  the  Avenger 
knows. 

The  Cherokee  Indians  once  held  Western  Georgia  and 


60  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE. 

bordering  lands  upon  the  north  and  west,  and  they  were 
theirs,  guaranteed  by  Congress.  Churches  and  schools, 
farms  and  cattle,  spread  over  the  best  slopes  of  this 
lovely  country.  Chattanooga  was  their  best  and  proud- 
est village. 

They  had  grown  to  love  the  pacific  ways  of  civilized 
men.  They  had  made  the  white  man's  God  their  own, 
and  worshipped  Him  with  as  deep  a  veneration  and  af- 
fection. Their  children  grew  worthy  of  the  change,  and 
their  dead  strewed  the  mountain  sides  with  Christian 
commemorations.  But  the  white  people  coveted  the 
rich  acres  and  the  navigable  rivers,  and  our  government 
was  false  to  her  promises,  and  the  helpless  red  men 
were  uprooted  and  swept  into  a  strange  wild  land,  where 
many  perished  miserably  from  want  and  exposure,  but 
more,  from  that  baneful  aching  of  the  heart,  that  longing 
for  home  and  the  peaceful  surroundings  that  made  life  a 
joy,  and  not  a  burden. 

Upon  a  slope  of  Mission  Ridge  stands  a  marble  shaft 
like  the  white  finger  of  wrath,  marking  the  burial  spot 
of  Wooster,  their  spirit  guide,  and  their  leader  in  the 
new  way,  that  had  become  so  pleasant. 

Brainard  is  the  forgotten  name  that  once  designated 
Chattanooga.  It  was  worthy  the  apostle  for  whom  it 
was  christened  in  its  elder  days,  and  it  became  worthy 
the  fate  that  fell  like  a  fulfilled  prophecy  upon  it,  because 
of  broken  promises. 

There  is  one  more,  and  perhaps  many,  unholy  spots 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  US.  61 

upon  the  face  of  this  Republic.  Winchester,  Vir- 
ginia, and  its  borders,  bear  the  sign-manual  of  retribu- 
tion. 

Poor  mistaken  enthusiast,  John  Brown  !  A  noble 
impulse  working  through  a  disturbed  brain ! 

He  swung  in  mid-heaven,  a  lifeless  hideous  mass  of 
purple  flesh,  and  the  place  that  witnessed  this  historic 
tragedy,  is  as  desolate  as  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Thirteen  times  have  the  hordes  of  secession  and  the 
federal  armies  alternated  in  marching  and  counter-march- 
ing over  the  detested  spot ! 

May  the  wrath  of  the  Avenger  be  appeased  with  the 
rivers  of  blood,  and  the  sinless  lives  that  have  already 
spread  our  land  with  desolation,  and  dotted  its  fairest 
valleys  with  unrecorded  graves ! 

These  things  had  not  yet  come  to  Chattanooga  in  the 
spring  of  '61,  but  the  volcano  of  wrath  was  palpitating 
even  in  this  sweet  time,  and  the  dull  red  smoke  of  erup- 
tive fire  was  settling  over  the  faces  of  the  proud  hills, 
and  upon  the  bold  brows  of  Lookout  Mountain  and 
Mission  Ridge.  It  followed  the  borders  of  the  river 
and  stretched  away  to  the  northland,  and  mingled  with 
a  purer  element  and  was  lost  at  last  in  the  holier  spirit 
of  loyalty.  But  to  the  south  it  grew  deeper  and  darker, 
until  humanity  even,  could  not  breathe  its  deadly  atmo- 
sphere. 

There  were  a  few  Lots  in  this  Sodom  of  the  New 
World,  but  they  would  not  flee  at  the  warning. 
6 


62  THE  BO  T  JN  £L  UE. 

On  the  shore  of  the  river  stood  the  house  of  Robert 
St.  Remy.  It  was  as  beautiful  a  spot  as  nature  could 
well  make.  The  water  curled  round  a  deep  green  point, 
and  the  grand  trees  stood  up  in  the  pride  of  old  senti- 
nels that  guarded  the  children  from  the  fierce  strokes  of 
the  summer  sun.  Scattered  over  the  point  were  groups 
of  sweet  blossoms  daring  the  gaze  of  mid  day,  and 
making  the  earth  lovely  with  their  presence. 

The  house  was  large  and  low,  with  graceful  verandahs 
shading  the  i.  rench  windows  that  made  the  rooms  all 
look  as  if  but  retiring  nooks  from  the  sloping  lawn. 
The  entrance  seemed  always  open,  and  hospitality  had 
reigned  with  a  free  hand  under  its  pleasant  roof.  There 
had  been  for  many  years  only  Mr.  St.  Remy,  his  only 
living  son,  and  the  pet  and  idol  of  the  county,  Remy, 
to  occupy  it. 

There  were  painful  reasons  for  her  strange  name 
which  were  never  explained  to  their  friends,  and  no  one 
could  ask  so  delicate  a  question  of  any  who  carried  St. 
Remy  blood.  There  was  that  strange  and  incompre- 
hensible something  about  them  that  has  no  explanation, 
but  it  is  a  power  in  their  presence  which  repels  curiosi- 
ty, and  wins  respectful  attention  to  all  the  amenities  of 
refined  life.  The  mother  died  abroad,  and  a  delicate 
cenotaph  reared  its  exquisite  white  beauty  under  a  Lin- 
den tree  down  by  the  river,  and  the  inscription, 

"THE  BELOVED  DEAD  OF  THE  HOUSEHOLD 
OF  ST.  REMY," 

began,  and  ended  the  history. 


THE  BO  r  IN  BL  UE,  63 

Robert  St.  Remy  was  worthy  of  a  description  hi 
those  days.  He  was  tall,  and  possessed  that  tfnusual 
accompaniment  of  altitude,  grace  of  manner  and  ease  of 
position,  with  handsome  limbs  and  small  extremities, 
and  muscle  that  would  have  been  the  envy  of  a  Titan. 
His  forehead  was  high  and  broad  and  brown,  jutting  over 
deep  eyes  whose  color  was  unknown  to  his  acquaintan- 
ces, so  dark  and  changeable  were  they,  and  so  shadowed, 
yet  no  one  ever  looked  upon  his  face  without  feeling 
their  strange  power,  and  even  the  lower  grades  of  life 
bowed  and  swayed  to  his  will,  without  a  motion  of  re- 
sistance. His  face  was  not  handsome.  There  was  not 
a  line  or  curve  of  beauty  upon  it.  His  skin  was  an  ex- 
treme olive,  and  there  were  tones  and  shadows  upon  it 
that  only  a  brave  artist  would  have  dared  reproduce. 
Beneath  the  eyes,  deep  purplish  tawny  colors  suggested 
endless  sorrow,  but  the  lips  which  owned  no  symmetry 
at  rest,  curled  into  a  contradiction  of  this  hint  of  grief, 
and  thrilled  every  feature  into  sunshine.  His  teeth  bore 
the  fifty  years'  service — with  a  brilliancy  that  contrasted 
strongly  and  strangely  with  the  hues  about  them.  His 
hair  was  threaded  with  now  and  then  a  silver  line,  but 
it  forgot  to  be 'old  in  its  soft  gleam  and  beautiful  abun- 
dance. Its  large  black  rings  lay  about  his  neck,  and 
his  beard'was  silky  and  jetty,  but  closely  cut  in  an 
English  way,  that  the  older  servants  said  pleased  the 
dead  wife,  and  so  he  never  changed  its  form.  But  his 
voice  ! — there  lay  the  subtlest  charm  of  all.  It  was  full 


64  THE  BOY  IN  BL US. 

and  deep,  but  changed  with  every  emotion,  and  like  the 
truest  barometer,  indicated  tears,  or  sunshine,  storm  or 
calm. 

He  carried  a  glorious  nature,  true  as  steel  to  the 
highest  standard  of  manhood,  and  tender  as  a  woman 
when  humanity,  affection  or  sympathy  swayed  his 
thoughts.  He  had  sorrowed  for  himself  and  grieved 
for  others.  He  had  loved  one  woman  devotedly, 
whether  happily  or  not,  always,  and  it  filled  his 
lifetime.  He  could  adapt  his  heart  to  but  only  one 
love. 

His  home  was  beautified  to  meet  the  demands  of  his 
own  aesthetic  nature,  and  when  a  perfect  companionship 
filled  it  with  delight,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
question  the  existence  of  a  present  heaven.  This  joy 
had  been  lured  away  from  earth,  and  only  the  children 
kept  him  patient.  He  hid  his  loneliness  from  them,  and 
they  did  sometimes  quite  beguile  him  of  it.  They  made 
every  day  a  measure  of  happiness  to  his  home. 

Abernethy  St.  Remy  was  the  eldest  born,  and  a  strange 
reticent  man,  delighting  in  chemicals  and  alembics,  tel- 
escopes, and  hieroglyphs,  and,  except  his  little  sister  and 
his  father,  no  one  ever  entered  the  holy  of  holies  in  his 
affection.  He  looked  like  his  father,  only  not  so  grand, 
and  his  profile  was  like  that  of  a  delicate  woman. 
There  was  power  in  his  steadfast  gaze,  but  it  was  gone 
when  he  turned  his  face  from  you.  You  felt  that  mingling 
elements  were  charmingly  blended,  and  that  the  fire  of 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  f,5 

heaven,  or  its  soothing  and  cooling  dew  might  drop  at 
a  touch.  He  had  pursued  science  because  peace  made 
her  ways  pleasant,  but  he  began  to  feel  the  stirrings  of 
strife  conjuring  a  strange  life  in  his  soul,  but  the 
rumble  of  distant  thunder,  the  threatening  under- 
tones of  revolution,  the  swift  breath  of  the  tempest  of 
hatred  transformed  the  delicately  tempered  stylet  of 
steel  to  the  weapon  of  Achilles. 

He  boldly  denounced  the  wrong,  and  grasped  the 
sword  of  truth,  justice  and  liberty,  and  like  an  avalanche 
precipitated  his  loyalty  upon  the  restless  opinions,  and 
vague  plans  of  the  people.  No  man  in  all  that  valley 
dared  face  the  hot  breath  of  this  crater  of  boiling  elo- 
quence, and  dissent.  Followers  came  to  his  standard, 
staunch  as  the  hills,  and  enemies,  secret  and  vindictive, 
only  waited  for  brute  strength  to  crush  the  grandeur  of 
this  apostle  of  freedom. 

Berny  St.  Remy  had  been  his  familiar  name  among 
his  friends,  and  it  became  the  watchword  of  the  true 
Unionists  of  East  Tennessee. 

His  soul,  when  roused,  was  prophetic.  He  saw  the 
coming  suffering — the  martyrdom  for  liberty — but, 
thank  God  !  he  did  not  foresee  all.  He  could  not  have 
looked  and  lived,  and  yet  he  possessed  marvelous  en- 
durance. He  never  once  quivered  for  himself  before 
the  blast,  but  his  sister,  the  darling  of  the  house,  the 

idol  of  a  broken  home — she  must  be  spared  !     She  was 
«* 


06  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

abroad  when  the  change  came,  for  one  year  more  of 
betters  chool  life  than  she  could,  in  all  respects,  find  at 
the  South,  and  her  father  returned,  leaving  her  in  safety, 
while  he  was  here  to  lull,  if  possible,  the  turbulence 
that  had  begun  to  rise  in  gusts,  even  beyond  the  ocean. 
But  it  was  like  lifting  one's  impotent  finger  to  the 
wild  north  wind,  this  one  voice  among  the  crazed  mul- 
titude. 

Berny  was  strong  when  alone,  but  it  was  terrible  to 
look  upon  his  beloved  face  in  its  agony  of  crushed  hope 
and  wasted  peace,  with  only  one  life  to  give,  and  that 
belonging  to  the  girl,  motherless,  and  with  strangers,  and 
he  fainted  at  heart  sometimes  before  the  possible  suffer- 
ing of  the  future.  Not  once  did  he  think  of  himself,  or 
calculate  his  chances  of  life  or  death. 

Scarcely  had  coming  events  conspired  to  shape  a  course 
for  either,  when  a  message  arrived  announcing  that  Remy 
St.  Remy  had  returned  with  a  gentleman  and  his  moth- 
er, (old  friends  of  the  family),  from  abroad.  She  could 
not  stay  from  her  people  in  their  struggle.  She  could 
not  face  the  intimations  of  fallen  greatness  that  met  her 
from  exultant  foreigners.  She  waited  an  escort  to 
Chattanooga. 

This  was  a  new  subject  to  consider — a  new  trouble 
to  encounter.  She  was  a  St.  Remy  to  the  last  drop  of 
blood,  and  both  father  and  brother  gloried  in  her  spirit, 
but  decided  that  she  must  abide  in  the  North. 

Her  fiuher  wrote  her  his  desire, — a  comn.and  never 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  67 

having  passed  his  lips  to  her.     Love  had  been  a  sweet 
law,  and  disobedience  an  unknown  sin. 

She  had  given  her  hand  to  Carryl  Farnam  because  her 
father  wished  it,  which  was  a  better  reason  to  her,  than 
because  her  woman's  fancy  was  pleased.  Her  heart  was 
a  closed  blossom  whose  petals  had  never  felt  the  sun- 
shine of  earnest  affection,  nor  comprehended  the  inter- 
pretation of  life,  and  so  she  had  promised. 

Her  brother  had  broken  the  old  compact  of  friendship 
months  ago,  with  Carryl  Farnam,  and  detested  him  for 
the  vile  treason  he  plotted  and  promulgated,  but  love 
held  a  deep  meaning  to  the  father's  understanding,  and 
he  dared  not  destroy  his  daughter's  happiness,  even  if 
his  own  waning  years  were  wrecked  upon  the  new 
breakers  that  howled  and  seethed  about  them. 

He  remembered  her  sweet  childish  face,  and  the  deep 
tender  eyes  where  a  Tennessee  sunshine  always  slept, 
and  her  round  dimpled  olive  cheek,  upon  whose  velvety 
curves  never  a  tear  of  his  own  conjuring,  lay.  He  re- 
membered the  cenotaph  on  the  lawn,  and  the  lives  and 
deaths  it  commemorated,  and  could  not  tell  his  child 
that  worse  than  a  grave  separated  him,  and  the  man 
to  whom  he  had  given  her.  Perhaps  he  sometimes 
permitted  a  thought  of  possible  change  in  her  young 
heart  also,  but  she  was  a  woman,  and  so  chivalric 
was  he  in  his  ideal  of  her  constancy,  that  he  did  not 
keep  a  thought  of  swerving  faith  to  comfort  him  in  his 
agony . 


68  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

That  Carryl  Farnam  had  gone  to  her,  he  did  not  know, 
though  the  rebel  assumed  to  bear  messages  for  her  re- 
turn. That  he  came  back  rejected,  humiliated  and  re- 
vengeful, was  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  the  St.  Remy 
family.  It  would  have  lightened  their  anxious  hearts 
too  much.  The  sweetest  friendships  had  changed  to  the 
bitterest  feuds,  and  the  closest  ties  of  blood  bocome 
compacts  of  death.  Bitterer  here,  than  upon  any  of  the 
western  towns  had  fallen  the  strife  that  precedes  the  open 
battle. 

Berny  had  rallied  a  band  of  staunch  supporters  of  the 
Union,  and  next  him  in  command  stood  his  father !  A 
strange  reversal,  but  the  fitness  of  the  two  for  their  res- 
pective positions  reconciled  the  apparent  want  of  honor 
to  age.  They  did  not  then  look  forward  to  an  open 
war,  with  the  hills  echoing  to  the  wild  cry  of  carnage, 
but  to  the  small  uprisings  that  often  break  upon  a  dis- 
turbed country,  and  this  organized  band  had  but  just 
begun  to  feel  its  power  and  security,  when  Carryl  Far- 
nam returned  after  a  protracted  absence.  No  one  knew, 
but  all  supposed  he  had  visited  the  head  of  the  rebellion 
for  some  wicked  purpose,  and  his  presence  brought  dis- 
trust to  the  true,  and  secret  exultation  to  the  enemies 
of  America. 


THE  JiO  1'  IN  BL  UK  69 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOKEY. 

"  And  thou,  sad  angel,  who  so  long 

Hast  waited  for  the  glorious  token, 
That  earth  from  all  her  bonds  of  wrong, 

To  liberty  and  light  has  broken. 
Angel  of  Freedom T    Soon  to  thee 

The  sounding  trumpet  shall  be  given, 
And  over  earth's  full  jubilee 

Shall  deeper  joy  be  felt  in  Heaven." 

"  Ho,  wake  and  watch ! — the  world  is  gray  with  morning  light !" 

THE  dependents  in  the  St.  Remy  mansion  felt  in  a 
vague  way  that  a  great  sorrow  was  before  them,  but  it 
only  excited  their  enthusiastic  religious  natures  to  an- 
ticipate the  coming  of  the  millenium — that  great  day 
when  they  should  all  be  w  hite !  The  signal  for  a  change 
of  color  was  listened  for  in  the  stillness  of  those  soft 
spring  midnights,  and  the  Sabbath  days  were  often 
wasted  with  toiling  to  the  highest  point  of  Lookout 
Mountain  or  Orchard  Knob,  to  get  a  little  nearer  to  the 
coming  blast  of  the  last  day.  They  had  a  firm  belief 
that  all  bad  white  people,  and  they  were  growing  too 
numerous  each  day,  were  to  be  changed  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye  to  the  darkest  complexion,  and  the  wooliest 


70  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

heads.  Retribution,  and  poetical  justice,  are  favorite 
themes  of  those  ignorant  and  innocent  people.  They 
had  heard  terrible  legends,  and  horrible  romances  of 
colored  suffering,  but  it  had  never  come  to  them  They 
were  sometimes,  like  unruly  children,  governed  and 
punished,  but  not  with  stripes.  They  took  the  com- 
mendation, and  condemnation,  of  their  superiors  as  so 
much  justice,  and  never  thought  of  resistance  to  the  de- 
cision. 

Maumer  Cleopatra  had  been  the  mother  to  them  all, 
in  the  sense  of  being  nurse  to  master's  children,  which 
made  her  oracle,  and  authority,  in  temporal  and  spiritual 
matters.  Medical  advice  from  her  huge  lips  was  fol- 
lowed with  unquestioning  faith.  She  dealt  life  and  death, 
seldom  the  latter,  from  the  medicine  chest  of  Master  St. 
Remy.  She  could  not  read  the  smallest  word,  and 
yet  she  never  made  a  blunder  with  a  bottle,  or  mistook 
the  uses  of  the  great  bunches  of  odorous  herbs  that 
were  all  the  better  for  the  smoke  and  dust  of  the  cabin 
pegs,  where  they  hung  like  ifalismanic  warnings  to 
disease. 

Sundays,  she  grew  to  be  saintly  in  a  silk  turban  of 
scarlet  and  saffron,  and  a  chintz  gown  of  the  gayest 
colors  that  Remy  could  find  in  her  semi-annual  visits  to 
New  Orleans.  She  mingled  her  conversation,  as  is 
usual  with  influential  colored  people,  with  copious  quo- 
tations from  the  Scriptures,  not  quite  applicable  always, 
and  sometimes  not  easy  to  locate,  but  always  unanswer- 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  71 

able.  She  had  been  the  trusted  servant  when  there  was 
an  \musual  call  for  discretion.  She  had  seen  the  happi- 
ness and  sorrow  of  the  Remy  family,  but,  unlike  her  kind 
and  color,  she  did  not  make  their  history  the  foundation 
of  her  colloquial  entertainments. 

The  younger  members  of  the  colored  portion  of  the 
household,  did  not  take  to  veneration  early,  or  easily  at 
any  age,  but  when  they  were  once  subjugated  by  her  will 
or  wisdom,  there  was  no  revolt,  even  in  thought.  She 
trained  them  after  Solomon's  advice,  and  sometimes, 
though  not  often,  she  resorted  to  the  power  of  the 
church  and  public  prayer,  in  a  grove  upon  Missionary 
Ridge.  This  last  was  always  a  sure  remedy  for  present 
evils. 

Hokey  was  her  especial  trial.  There  was  no  white 
mistress,  and  the  master  was  too  sad  and  broken  to  be 
troubled  with  darkeys,  so  she  said. 

She  related  her  experience,  or  rather  her  biography 
after  this  wise  to  the  clerical  colored  party,  who  prom- 
ised to  bestow  it  upon  his  congregation  with  comments, 
and  explanatory  ejaculations,  when  he  should  have  the 
grief  of  standing  over  her  coffin. 

"  Of  this  special  trial,"  as  she  called  Hokey,  "  there 
was  many  openins  for  the  milk  o'  human  kindness  to 
run  in, — ain't  none  now.  In  the  beginning,  and  firstly, 
he  was  a  heap  sight  handsomer  lookin  than  the  older 
nigs.  He  didn't  take  to  the  catechise,  a  bit.  'Pears 
like  he  went  agin  it,  afore  he  could  talk.  When  I  ask 


72  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE. 

him  who  made  him,  he  said  he  spected  de  blacksmith 
did,  with  charcoal  dust.  He  know'd  better,  dat  niggar 
did.  '  I  said  no,'  very  solm  like,  '  God  made  you  ob  de 
dust  ob  de  ground.'  He  said  jes  as  quick,  '  'spect  he'd 
better  made  sumfin  smarter  nor  a  niggar.  Dey  isn't 
much  'count  no  how.  Don't  think  he  had  much  to  do. 
One  ting  good  'bout  'em,  dey  don't  fade,  but  de  color 
runs,  ky  !'  Says  I,  '  Hokey,'  says  I,  '  you'r  ten  year  old, 
and  does'nt  know  your  catechise.  'Pears  like  you'll  die 
bimeby,  and  then  where'll  you  go  to?'  Ef  you  believe 
it,  dat  are  scamp  said  he'd  be  a  white  boy  den,  after 
he'd  gone  up,  and  buy  a  million  books  with  picturs, 
and  lock  de  doors  and  keep  every  ole  body  from  making 
him  put  em  down.  '  Hokey,'  says  I,  awful  solm  agin, 
'  servants  be  obedient  to  your  masters,  not  eye-servants, 
havin  somebody  follerin  ye  with  a  cat-tail,  for  he  dat 
went  in  at  de  lebenth  hour  had  jes  as  much  pay,  as  he 
dat  worked  when  de  sun  was  hot,'  and  he  jes  ris  right 
up,  and,  you  wouldn't  believe  how  sassy  and  handsome 
he  looked,  when  he  said,  "  Guess  I'll  wait  a  spell,  den 
'cause,  maumer,  I  spect  yous'e  a  mighty  nice  old  nig- 
ger woman,  but  you'se  proper  like  a  cropple  crowned, 
hen,  what's  taken  to  crowin.  I  don't  like  yer  cackle. 
When  de  Lord  made  Adam  mebby  he  painted  him 
black.  I  asked  Masser  Remy,  and  he  said,  mebby.  I 
don't  want  any  of  your  catechise.  When  I'me  a  big 
feller  I'm  goin  to  be  mancipated,  masser  says  I  am,  and 
ky  !  won't  I ?  No  matter  what  I'll  do,  ole  cropple 


THE  SO  T  IN  BL  HE.  73 

crown.  Mebby  I'll  marry  Dot,  and  mancipate  her,  ky ! 
little  female  nig  !"  And  he  whopped  him's  pesky  black 
self  heels  ober  head  and  stuck  his  toes  inter  Dot's  mouf 
which  was  allus  open  when  I  talked  scriptur.  Ky ! 
didn't  her  snap  her  white  grinders  onto  his  toe  nails 
'till  he  squealed  like  a  hyena.  De  berry  next  ting  dem 
darkies  did  was  to  steal  raisins,  and  eat  em  out  of  each 
Oder's  moufs  as  lovin  as  two  pigs,  and  he'd  call  her  his 
gal.  Tell  ye  what,  that  are  boy  has  been  my  trial,  but 
he's  grow'd  to  be  a  mighty  likely  fellsr,  only  he  ain't  a 
bit  religous,  not  a  bit,  and  I'm  awful  'fraid  he'll  go  for  to 
marry  my  Dot  and  take  her  to  perdition  wid  him,  only 
I  don't  b'leive  he'll  quite  go  hisself,  he's  so  good  to  my 
ole  bones.  Massa  did  mancipate  him,  and  he  don't  stay 
off  long.  He  says  he'll  come  to  my  funeral,  and  I  know 
yer'll  have  a  handsome  coffin  for  me.  'Pears  like  I'm 
willin  to  go,  but  I  should  like  to  be  sartin  first  of  a 
proper  nice  funeral.  Dare  ain't  many  young  ones  to 
cry,  and  Dot,  she's  away,  and  'pears  like  I'se  goin  to 
glory  'fore  she  comes  back.  I  heard  de  tick  ob  de 
death  watch  at  de  head  ob  my  bed,  and  I  dreamt  ob  a 
white  horse  and  me  on  him,  and  Hokey  scarin  him 
like  possess't,  and  I  flyin  like  mad.  I'm  off  mighty 
soon,  I  reckon." 

She  never  knew  when  the  proper  resting  time  for  her 
tongue  occurred,  nor  where  the  periods  came  in  her  con- 
versation, but  silence  fell  upon  her  at  last,  just  before 
7 


74  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UK 

the  great  iron  heel  strode  over  the  land,  treading  in  the 
wine-press  of  agony  and  death,  servant  and  master,  out 
of  which  at  last  the  fountain  of  liberty  shall  cast  up  its 
pure  waters,  and  baptize  every  suffering  soul. 

There  was  a  prolonged  contest  in  Hokey's  mind  !» 
tween  liberty  and  love.  His  affection  for  his  master 
was  as  tender  as  a  great  white  heart  could  make  it,  but 
his  longing  for  universal  freedom  was  stronger  than  his 
hold  upon  life. 

He  must  serve  his  people  and  his  master  too,  but 
how? 

Poor  old  Cleopatra  had  failed  to  indoctrinate  him 
with  her  creed,  but  now  that  there  was  no  strength  in 
man,  he  lifted  his  helpless  hands  to  the  God  of  Liberty, 
and  offered  himself  a  sacrifice  of  serving,  or  suffering  with 
the  abnegation  of  a  Roman  patriot. 

Vip  was  the  gardener.  He  had  been  sly  and  trouble- 
some, and  Viper  was  the  original  name  given  him.  Cle- 
opatra's stripes  and  prayers  had  not  changed  his  pur- 
poses or  habits,  but  taught  him  to  follow  still  more 
closely  the  nature  that  came  with  him.  He  carried 
more  duplicity  Under  his  black  skin  than  could  be 
crowded  into  twenty  white  men,  but  he  was  intensely 
superstitious,  and  only  through  this  element  in  his  nature 
could  he  be  controlled. 

Hokey  detested  and  feared  him,  and  Vip  returned  ih. 
hatred  but  not  the  fear.  He  did  not  forgive  Holu-y  !l«r 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  75 

being  free.  He  considered  himself  fully  as  deserving, 
and  far  more  capable  of  managing  himself,  but  the 
master,  perhaps,  understood  his  nature  too  well  to  trust 
him. 

It  had  been  a  principle  in  the  St.  Remy  household 
never  to  purchase  a  fellow-being  except  for  humanity's 
sake.  When  there  was  more  than  the  needful  supply 
they  gave  liberty  to  the  worthiest.  In  the  annals  of 
the  house  it  was  recorded  that  Hokey's  mother  had 
been  bought  to  make  the  father  of  this  favored  servant 
happy. 

Cleopatra's  husband  too  had  been  procured  at  an 
enormous  sum  to  content  her  loving  soul,  and  give  her 
an  object  upon  which  to  lavish  her  affection,  religious 
experience,  and  temper.  She  had  become  too  wretched 
to  be  successful  in  pastry  or  poultry,  after  a  few  inter- 
views with  him  on  one  eventful  Christmas  time,  and  her 
master  purchased  the  handsome  lazy  fellow,  and  secured 
success  in  the  cuisine. 

When  the  woman  was  promoted  to  the  position  of 
nurse,  her  piety,  propriety,  and  pride,  rose  to  such  a 
height  that  she  was  heard  to  say  that  her  husband  was 
"  a  shiftless  nigger,  but  mighty  good  lookin  on  Sundays 
and  could  pray  dretful  fine." 

He  went  to  sleep  before  she  did,  and  she  had  a  "  nice 
funeral,  proper  nice,"  and  wore  a  black  print  dress,  and 
wept  in  a  handkerchief  bordered  with  "  unconsolable 
grief,"  and  a  lemon  and  green  bandanna  was  wound 


76  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

about  her  head.  Scarlet  was  excluded  in  her  first  sor- 
row, but  it  was  restored  with  apparent  cheerfulness  in 
just  four  weeks  and  five  days. 

She  never  married  again,  for  her  master  was  unwilling 
to  meet  the  outlay  of  first  expenditures,  and  so  ht-r 
scoldings  were  distributed  thereafter.  Viper  and  Doro- 
thea, or  Vip  and  Dot,  were  her  only  descendants,  and  as 
unlike  as  two  colored  people  could  well  be.  They  dis- 
liked each  other  with  an  intensity  that  was  fearful.  It 
took  the  form  of  digital  and  incisor  warfare  in  childhood, 
but  afterwards  in  sullen  separation  as  far  as  practicable. 
Cleopatra's  ebony  cheeks  wore  many  a  salt  jewel  because 
of  their  implacable  hatred. 

It  was  well  that  Dot  was  with  her  mistress  now,  or 
the  lawless  spirit  that  pervaded  black  and  white,  might 
have  led  to  a  tragedy  of  the  St.  Domingo  order. 

The  remaining  slaves  were  peaceable,  careless 
creatures,  who  had  no  sorrow  that  could  not  be  cured 
by  a  kind  word  or  gay  gift,  except  when  a  real  grief 
came,  and  then  they  found  consolation  in  religion. 
Faith  was  almost  fruition  in  their  believing  souls. 

The  political  cauldron  of  Chattanooga  was  seething, 
and  who  could  tell  what  would  be  evoked  even  from  the 
hearts  of  those  simple  folk,  who  were,  with  now  and 
then  an  exception,  happy  and  content  with  the  fate  that 
was  upon  them. 

Freedom  was  a  pleasant  word,  and  sounded  grand, 
and  is  grand,  but  to  them,  for  the  most  part,  it  veiled 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE.  77 

care   and   personal    responsibility,   and   they   coveted 
neither. 

This  domestic  picture  had  many  counter-parts  in 
Southern  homes,  but  there  were  too  sad  contrasts,  be- 
cause liberty  belongs  to  every  human  soul,  but  it  cannot 
be  reached  without  pain.  All  progress,  and  all  growth, 
comes  by  agony.  The  second  birth  to  the  dark  children 
will  be  through  fire  and  blood,  but  it  will  be  to  an  in- 
heritance of  manhood  and  womanhood  at  last. 

Evil  has  a  vivid  existence  in  th;s  era.  The  wrong  is 
to  the  right,  as  shadow  to  a  beautiful  picture.  It  is  need- 
ful. It  does  not  make  gold  of  less  worth  because  meaner 
metals  are  abundant.  A  higher  Hand  cares  for  these 
things,  and  time  is  a  thorough  alchymist.  The  stream 
of  God's  providence  flows  on,  and  springs  of  kindness 
are  never  exhausted,  neither  are  the  hands  that  mete 
justice  ever  weary. 

Be  patient  and  strive  in  the  humble  ways,  for  there 
are  Toussaint  L'Ouvertures  innumerable,  among  your 
people,  who"  are  worthy  the  martyr's  crown,  or,  better 
still,  the  laurel  of  liberty. 

The  good  God's  day  has  not  yet  come  for  your  per- 
fect emancipation,  but  the  blush  of  its  dawn  is  upon  you. 
Be  patient ! 

7* 


78  TEE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JUNE  8,  1861. 

"  Come  out  of  her,  my  people,  lest  ye  be  partakers  of  her  sins." 

*'  And  yet  we  must 

Beware,  and  mark  the  natural  kiths  and  kins 
Of  circumstance  and  office,  and  distrust 
The  rich  man's  reasoning  in  a  poor  man's  hut." 

THE  twilight  of  a  thousand  years  gone  by  settled  down, 
upon  Tennessee,  the  deluded,  the  wronged. 

Write  this  date  in  black  letter  upon  the  page  of 
history. 

Nelson,  the  patriot,  called  upon  the  vibrating  people 
to  make  this  day  glorious  for  future  years,  but  they 
could  not.  Rebel  troops  cast  rebel  votes,  and  rebel 
majorities  sealed  the  fate  of  struggling  loyalists — but 
not  forever. 

He  implored  them  to  arrest  despotism,  but  they  were 
impotent.  As  an  alternative,  the  only  one,  he  said : 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE,  79 

"  Cry,  friend  of  freedom  !  '  Every  man  to  his  tents, 
O,  Israel !' " 

4  Snatch  from  the  ashes  of  your  sires, 
The  embers  of  their  former  fires, 
And  he  who  in  the  strife  expires, 
Will  add  to  theirs  a  name  01  fear, 
That  tyranny  will  quake  to  hear.' " 

East  Tennessee  could  not  endure  the  result  of  this 
election  to  loyalty  or  treason  with  complacency,  and  so 
Berny  St.  Remy  became  an  orator.  The  pale  quiet 
student  flung  the  long  suppressed  fire  of  his  nature  to 
the  people,  'till  brand  after  brand  of  burning  truth  was 
seized  an-1  held  up  glowing  with  quenchless  brightness 
to  the  darkness  that  was  gathering  with  appalling  terror 
about  them. 

They  begged  permission  to  be  a  State  by  themselves, 
these  mountaineers,  where  loyalty  and  liberty  could  live 
on  the  hills  and  in  the  valleys  of  that  wild  east  land,  but 
their  pleading  was  too  late — too  late !  Violence  was 
forcing  them  to  a  vortex  of  ruin,  and  nothing  but  the 
strength  of  the  rejected  government  could  rescue  them. 
The  heroes  of  these  mountain  homes  were  betrayed, 
hunted  like  the  Huguenots,  imprisoned,  murdered,  or 
worse,  exiled  ! 

Many  crossed  the  mountains  to  escape  from  the  rebel 
soldiery,  and  enlist  under  the  dear  old  flag,  which  they 
hoped  would  sometime  go  back  triumphant,  to  float  on 
the  highest  peak  of  their  boldest  bluff.  There  were 
heroes  who  must  remain,  and  the  unfettered  echoes  of 


80  TEL-  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK 

these  grand  mountains  incited  them  to  chant  the  sweet 
notes  of  liberty,  keyed  from  their  forefathers'  diapase 
of  freedom.  Women  and  children  were  hunted  by 
secession  soldiery,  and  innocent  martyrs  to  their  coun- 
try, they  were  translated  by  the  angels  to  the  highest 
heavens,  to  plead  there  for  their  crushed  and  bleeding 
households. 

Brave  Alleghaneans  !  Your  history  will  glow  by  the 
Switzers'  story,  and  your  Johnsons,  Nelsons  and  May- 
nards,  be  sung  with  the  songs  of  Tell,  Furst,  Melchthal 
and  Stauffaeher. 

Mountaineers  of  every  land  and  time  have  been  liber- 
ty loving.  They  are  not  tamed  with  an  easy  hand,  and 
the  light  leash  which  holds  the  citizens  of  a  plain,  they 
part  at  the  first  wrench  of  their  will,  and  assert  the  bold- 
est independence. 

Andrew  Johnson  was  a  new  ruler  of  the  popular  opin- 
ions. His  elements  were  of  a  later  day,  and  a  stronger 
stuff.  He  had  grown  from  the  lower  strata  of  society 
to  a  power  of  the  highest  rank.  He  had  taken  root  deep 
in  the  heart  of  the  original  earth,  and  nothing  could 
sway  him  from  his  position.  "  He  is  only  a  mudsill," 
his  enemies  said,  but  they  trembled  when  his  name  was 
uttered. 

Southern  habits  and  social  regulations  are  not  promo- 
ters of  industrial  progress  or  intellectual  culture  in  even 
the  higher  ranks,  and  less  so  in  the  lower  classes,  but 
Johnson  had  been  one  of  those  wonderful  exceptions 


THE  BO  T  IN  £L  UE.  81 

which  at  long  intervals  shoot  across  the  years,  like  a 
meteor  athwart  the  sky,  and  we  wonder  and  admire,  but 
cannot  entirely  comprehend.  He  learned  his  alphabet 
after  marriage,  because  poverty  denied  him  the  luxury 
of  books,  and  in  his  earlier  struggles  for  life,  there  was 
no  hour  to  spare  for  the  growth  of  intellect.  But  his 
time  came.  He  crossed  the  mountains  of  Tennessee 
and  rose  to  the  rank  of  Senator  by  virtue  of  energy,  and 
his  loyalty  to  Freedom. 

Hardy,  and  true  to  whatever  purpose  his  iron  will 
had  determined  upon,  he  did  not  droop  under  the  calami- 
ty of  the  brief  severance  of  his  state  from  the  mother 
government,  but  labored,  and  waited,  till  deliverance 
came.  The  days  seemed  years,  and  the  months  centu- 
ries, but  they  waned  at  last,  and  the  cloud  was  lifted,  but 
not  entirely  swept  away. 

To  grow  from  the  depths  of  lower  humanity, — and 
reach  moral  perfection  in  this  life,  is  impossible,  and 
whatever  failures  belong  to  the  history  of  Andrew 
Johnson,  we  must  remember,  the  good  he  has  accom- 
plished, and  how  through  the  darkness  of  ignorance  he 
has  lifted  himself  to  a  higher  plane  than  one  could  have 
believed.  If  he  sometimes  vibrates,  and  the  backward 
swaying  is  too  far,  pity  and  forgive  him,  for  the  sake 
of  June  8,  1861. 

He  proved  his  honest  patriotism  in  the  Senate  of  the 
Federal  States,  in  his  memorable  speech  upon  the 


92  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

secession  of  Tennessee,  and  the  election  of  its  first  Rebel 
Governor.  He  said  in  an  outburst  of  natural  elo- 
quence : 

"  Isham  G.  Harris  to  be  my  master,  and  the  master  of 
the  people  I  have  the  proud,  and  conscious  honor  of  re- 
presenting on  this  floor !  Mr.  President,  he  should  not 
be  my  slave!" 

Through  this  struggle,  Berny  St.  Remy  could  not  be 
inactive.  It  was  useless  to  remain,  and  his  father  gave 
him  to  a  cause  he  did  not  yet  see  how  he  could  best 
serve.  It  was  not  unmanly  to  weep  when  the  hour  of 
separation  came,  and  there  was  no  woman's  tears  to 
hallow  the  parting,  but  woman's  tenderness  and  man's 
bravery  lay  in  the  souls  of  both. 

A  secret  gathering  and  a  seeming  separation  of  his 
band,  and  then  they  were  gone,  and  the  rebels  raved  in 
vain  because  they  could  not  be  captured.  Revenge 
upon  those  who  were  courageous  enough  to  remain,  was 
all  that  there  was  left  for  baffled  enemies,  and  they  en- 
joyed its  sweetness  to  the  last  drop  of  the  fiendish 
draught. 

Colonel  St.  Remy  reached  Paducah  on  the  very  day 
of  its  occupation  by  Union  forces,  and  offered  himself 
and  such  of  his  men  as  should  reach  the  Federal  lines, 
to  General  Grant's  service,  and  was  gladly  accepted. 
There  was  that  in  the  face,  and  in  the  grasp  of  the  Ten- 
nesseean's  hand  that  met  a  response  from  the  leader  of 
the  Western  armies.  Berny  St.  Remy  had  waited 


THE  BO  T  IN  SL  UE.  33 

and  hoped  for  his  people,  but  fate  had  doomed  Chatta- 
nooga. Its  destiny  was  already  sealed. 

His  father  remained  to  keep  alive  the  dim  hope  of 
some  who  were  true,  but  faint  with  waiting.  Tired 
souls  there  were,  who  felt  the  humiliating  blow  of  de- 
feat so  keenly  that  the  wound  would  not  readily  heal. 

Hokey  was  a  secessionest  externally,  because  he  could 
render  better  service  to  his  old  master  by  learning  the 
purposes  of  the  rebels,  and  at  heart  he  was  too  humane 
not  to  rejoice  at  an  event  that  delivered  his  people  from 
bondage.  He  had  learned  from  the  developments  of 
the  summer  that  it  was  the  cruel  masters — the  hard 
men  who  spared  no  bond  of  blood  or  affection  when 
their  interest  demanded  its  sundering,  that  were  eager 
for  the  dismemberment  of  the  nation.  More  than  all 
the  years  of  his  life,  had  the  last  few  months  developed 
his  latent  perceptions  and  his  heroic  energies. 

Vip  was  suspicious  of  him,  and  watched  him  with  an 
intuitive  comprehension  of  the  truth.  He  too  rejoiced 
in  secession,  because  he  believed  that  in  the  overturning 
of  power,  he  should  somehow  find  himself  a-top,  but  he 
did  not  foresee  that  all  but  death  lay  across  the  path 
that  led  to  it.  He  had  no  care  for  his  race — only  for 
himself — Viper. 

Sometimes,  in  his  reflective  moods,  Vip  soliloquised 
of  himself  thus  : 

"  De  Lor  knows  what  he  made  me  for.  1  don't.  I'se 
agin  everybody  and  everybody's  agin  me.  I'se  sure  ob 


84  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE. 

one  ting,  I  ain't  sponsible,  cause  I  didn't  hab  nothing 
to  do  bout  making  myself.  Guess  if  dis  nigger  had, 
dare  would  have  been  more  wheat  flour  and  less  char- 
coal used.  Bress  me,  what  for  did  de  Lor  put  my  har 
in  such  a  kink  fur?  Spect  he  frizzled  it  ober  de  brim- 
stone afore  he  let  me  come,  and  I'll  get  ofF  wid  only  a 
single  scorch  when  I  goes  to  de  bad  place.  O,  I  hate 
de  white  goats.  Fse  a  sheep,  and  belong  to  de  right- 
han  ob  de  Lor's  Throne." 

He  was  well  named,  but  the  time  had  come  when  no 
man  dared  utter  his  full  appellation  in  his  presence. 
He  did  not  mind  the  sound  of  Vip,  that  was  well  enough, 
for  it  meant  just  nothing  but  himself,  but  the  other, — it 
interpreted  too  much  of  himself,  and  he  felt  it  like  a 
blow. 

The  rebels  watched  the  movements  of  the  colored 
people  with  even  more  jealousy  and  suspicion  than  they 
did  the  open  opponents  of  the  new  doctrine.  They 
feared  and  coveted  them  at  the  same  time.  Too  many, 
had  already  escaped  to  the  "  Dixie  of  Darkies,"  Canada 
and,  since  the  uprising  of  the  North,  thousands  had 
found  their  way  where  no  home  waited  and  no  welcome 
met  them,  because  they  were  wanderers.  They  were 
called  the  bone  of  contention,  but  no  one  cared  to  re- 
tain the  object  when  it  fell  into  their  possession. 

Mr.  St.  Remy's  tall  figure  had  drooped  somewhat  in 
the  summer's  waning.  There  was  no  one  to  comfort 
him  in  his  loneliness,  and  sometimes  his  own  thoughts 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  85 

were  almost  too  horrible  for  endurance.  He  sat  hours 
and  hours  by  the  cenotaph,  wondering  where  his  chil- 
drens'  heads  were  pillowed,  and  while  he  reasoned  that 
Remy  was  safe,  he  knew  she  was  wretched,  and  love 
has  so  many  sad  imaginings  and  so  many  fancied  pos- 
sibilities. 

Early  autumn  came,  and  the  lazy  day  had  sunk  into 
a  golden  glory.  The  purple  busts  of  the  mountains  had 
changed  from  dun  to  dusk,  and  then  to  dark.  The  nar- 
row white  shore  looked  like  a  torpid  serpent  stretching 
itself  on  the  border  of  the  slow  current  of  the  river. 
The  distance  held  silence,  and  across  the  stream  the 
marsh  grass  was  burning  in  a  lurid  blaze,  and  arching 
great  cones  of  smoke  which  rose  to  the  very  zenith. 
The  reeds  vibrated  slowly  to  the  motion  of  the  faint  air. 
The  new  moon  touched  its  curved  side  on  Orchard 
Knob,  and  lifted  its  crescent  horns  to  heaven  like  two 
imploring  arms. 

This  night  found  Mr.  St.  Remy  in  his  lonely  seat, 
listening  for  some  utterance  of  hope  and  praying  for  a 
human  voice  to  speak  sympathy,  if  it  could  not  syllable 
a  promise  of  coming  help.  He  felt  Fate's  hand  closing 
and  crushing  him  in  its  grasp,  and  his  heart  stood  still 
with  despair.  The  night  deepened  hour  by  hour,  and 
the  fire  died  out  over  the  river. 

A  sound  trembled  by  his  side,  but  did  not  startle,  it 
only  thrilled  him  as  if  a  pleiad  had  come  down  and 

touched  his  hand.     The  starlight  seemed  drunken  with 
8 


86  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK 

joy  and  reeled  through  the  restless  ripples  of  the  river. 
A  clear  confident  voice  broke  through  the  stillness,  and 
said: 

"  I  am  Aurora  Farnam.  We  do  not  meet  anymore, 
and  I  could  not  come  in  the  sunshine,  but  I  trust  I  bring 
a  ray  when  I  tell  you  that  the  St.  Remy  heart  is  not 
truer  to  the  old  Republic  than  mine.  I  do  not  fear  the 
daylight,  but  it  would  endanger  you.  To-morrow  there 
will  be  manacles  for  you  in  my  father's  house.  I  am 
glad  there  is  no  light,  or  you  would  see  me  crimson  to 
tell  you  this.  You  must  go  with  me  to-night.  I  have 
seen  this  fate  coming  to  you,  and  am  prepared." 

For  a  moment  he  uttered  no  sound.  No  fear  of  per- 
sonal suffering  had  part  in  that  strong  man's  tremor, 
but  a  thought,  first  of  his  country,  then  of  his  child,  and 
last,  of  this  brave  young  girl  who  risked  so  much  for 
him,  shook  every  fibre  of  his  being  like  the  throes  of  an 
earthquake. 

"  I  cannot  go  with  you,  my  child ;  a  man's  defence  is 
his  own  arm.  My  life  may  be  taken,  but  it  shall  be 
purchased  dearly.  I  cannot  forget  my  self-respect 
even  in  this.  My  daughter  must  never  blush  for  her 
father." 

"  If  you  could  meet  your  enemies  in  open  warfare,  in 
honorable  contest,  would  Aurora  Farnam  counsel  her 
old  friend  to  flight?  This  is  a  mob,  a  band  of  guer- 
rillas. Would  you  waste  your  life  for  the  opinion  of 
such  a  horde  1  Remember  Remy — remember  Berny — 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  87 

and  remember me !  I  am  almost  alone  in  the  world. 

There  is  no  gulf  so  wide  or  deep,  no  distance  so  im- 
measurable as  that  which  separates  me  from  my  kin- 
dred, except  my  poor,  patient,  helpless  mother.  But  I 
am  strong  to  do,  and  shall  suffer,  if  the  time  for  open 
rebellion  comes,  in  our  household.  I  am  not  here  to- 
night to  go  back  without  you,  and  I  shall  remain  if  you 
are  deaf  to  my  supplication.  Hokey  waits  for  me 
under  the  tulip  tree,  down  by  the  river.  We  came  in 
my  own  boat." 

A  shudder,  though  not  of  fear,  crept  again  slowly 
over  him.  Aurora  felt  it  under  the  hand  she  rested 
upon  his  shoulder.  She  knew  the  reason  of  this  strong 
patriot  would  assert  itself,  and  decide  him  to  spare  his 
steady  arm  for  a  better  purpose  than  mere  personal 
defence.  It  would  be  needed  by  and  by.  Both  were 
sure  of  this — too  sure. 

"  Don't  waste  time,  my  friend,  for  it  is  almost  mid- 
night and  the  young  moon  has  gone  down.  We  can 
gather  whatever  you  carry  from  your  home  quickly. 
It  must  be  little,  or  we  shall  be  suspected.  Vip  is  never 
fully  asleep  now.  I  fear  that  vile  negro,  and  so  does 
Hokey.  He  would  sacrifice  you  to-night.  He  was 
born  inhuman,  so  don't  grieve  for  the  love  of  a  servant 
whose  affection  you  never  had.  Hokey  is  as  noble  as 
Vip  is  detestable.  By  and  by,  it  will  not  be  murder  to 
kill  Vip  in  some  safe  place." 

It  almost  stupefied  her  listener  to  hear  this  girl — this 


88  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

child,  as  he  thought  her,  planning  for  him,  a  man !  He 
could  not  comprehend  the  rapidity  of  growth  which 
Aurora's  latent  energies  had  reached.  A  few  months 
of  terror  which  passed  in  listening  to  plots  against 
human  life,  and  those  lives  as  dear  to  her  as  her  o\vn, 
had  fostered  a  marvelous  capability  of  meeting  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  vilest  schemes.  She  was  intrepid,  and 
life  had  long  ceased  to  be  a  pleasure  to  herself,  but  she 
held  it  precious  for  its  uses  to  others  and  to  her  country. 
Her  very  fearlessness  gave  her  a  peculiar  aptitude  and 
fitness  for  meeting  danger,  and  a  cool  calculation  of 
chances  for  others.  If  the  daylight  had  shown  him  her 
face,  he  would  have  turned  from  it  in  unendurable  pain. 
Eyes  so  dry,  weary,  and  patient  in  suffering,  had  never 
met  his  own. 

She  had  been  a  dashing  brilliant  creature,  upon  whom 
youth  sat  superbly,  and  gave  prophecy  of  magnificent, 
womanhood.  She  was  plain  featured,  almost  to  a  posi- 
tive ugliness,  when  silence  lay  over  her  face.  Her  color 
was  so  faint,  and  the  contrasts  so  indistinct !  There 
were  no  degrees  of  tint.  The  palest  pigments  and  no 
others  entered  into  her  creation.  She  was  tall,  lithe 
and  willowy,  and  her  pliant  figure  and  graceful  outlines 
were  never  in  an  attitude  that  did  not  force  the  beholder 
to  wish  she  might  become  changeless.  Under  this 
characterless  toning,  there  lay  a  fire  which  sprang  to  the 
response  of  a  thought  or  word,  and  covered  her  features 
with  a  veil  of  light  so  radiant  that  you  doubted  if  she 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE.  89 

could  be  again  the  same  statuesque  impersonation  of 
calm. 

Impassioned,  and  impassive  alternately,  the  light  and 
shadow  of  the  immortal  flitting  over  her  face,  gave  her 
a  marvelous  charm,  and  an  almost  supernatural  power. 
She  was  patiently  waiting  for  Mr.  St.  Remy's  thoughts 
to  become  accustomed  to  this  last  pitiful  outrage,  for 
patience  Had  become  so  habitual  to  her,  since  the  strife 
began,  that  had  he  waited  in  silence  till  dawn,  she  would 
not  have  broken  it,  unless,  as  now,  his  safety  demanded 
haste. 

Scarcely  could  the  outlines  of  any  one  be  discerned, 
but  her  quick  sight  distinguished  the  poor  man's  figure 
leaning  toward  the  marble  remembrance  of  his  dead, 
and  his  brown  cheek  lying  upon  its  cold  surface,  as  if  to 
gather  endurance,  and  then  his  bent  spirit  asserted  itself, 
and  his  voice  had  the  old  manly  tones,  as  he  begged  her 
to  wait,  if  she  had  no  fear,  and  he  would  return  pres- 
ently. 

But  a  half  hour  passed,  when  he  came  back  with  the 
courtliness  of  the  elder  days,  and  offered  his  arm  to  Miss 
Farnam  and  they  walked  in  silence  to  where  the  boat 
lay,  lazily  rocking  in  the  eddies  that  curled  about  the 
cove  by  the  tulip  tree.  Neither  spoke  as  the  slow 
dip  of  oars,  deep  and  strong,  shot  the  little  shallop 
rapidly  past  the  town,  and  round  the  bluff,  and  then 
it  stood  out  in  the  stream  and  rowed  in  silence  till  op- 
posite a  glimmer  upon  the  bold  shore  which  sent  a  faint 
8* 


90  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

line  over  the  waves,  and  then  died  into  the  dark.  Ho- 
key  headed  his  boat  inland,  and  pulled  softly  to  the 
shore.  He  touched  the  ledge,  sprang  out  and  carefully 
assisted  these  two,  his  hunted  master  and  Aurora  Far- 
nam,  up  the  difficult  ascent  to  an  entrance  in  the  cliff. 
Turning  a  short  sharp  angle,  they  stooped,  and  entered 
a  passage  ending  a  few  feet  beyond  in  another  turn, 
which  opened  to  a  dimly  lighted  room.  There  were  the 
comfortable  furnishings  of  a  wild  life,  and  nothing  more, 
except  a  few  volumes  of  rare  books.  Aurora's  face 
lighted  with  the  certainty  of  present  safety  and  assumed 
her  droll  old  way  of  making  others  forget  themselves. 

"  Mr.  St.  Remy,  the  Brigand  of  Chattanooga,  and 
Mr.  St.  Remy's  adopted  daughter.  No  resemblance 
required.  He  preys  upon  himself,  and  she  intends  to 
do  the  same.  Ten  thousand  dollars  offered  for  his  cap- 
ture, and  the  young  lady  succeeds,  but  don't  realize  the 
bounty.  She  feeds  him  just  as  the  ravens  fed  Elijah. 
Hope  he  will  have  his  food  as  frequently  as  that  his- 
toric gentleman  did  ;  but  can't  give  an  assurance.  He 
has  a  barrel  of  hard  bread,  a  few  bottles  of  old  wine, 
and  something  to  hope  for.  He  shall  have  the  news 
when  there  is  any,  and  liberation  when  he  will  promise 
to  drop  two  rebels  at  every  expended  cartridge." 

The  strange  girl  chirruped  on,  till  she  brought  a  smile 
to  the  sad  face,  and  then  the  gleam  upon  her  own  went 
out  as  if  it  had  forgotten  to  stay. 

Hokey  was  to  take  her  home  before  the  dawn,  and  a 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  91 

poor  half  idiot  of  her  father's  house  would  come  to  the 
cave,  when  no  other  could  reach  it  unsuspected. 

This  poor  negro  had  been  spared  from  the  slave  gang, 
because  she  plead  for  him,  and  he  had  lived  as  he  could, 
doing  little  and  knowing  less,  in  fact  nothing  reached 
his  intellect  except  through  his  abject  love  for  his  young 
mistress.  That  terrible  morning  when  he  clung  to  his 
poor  mother,  years  ago,  and  she  with  the  tears  she 
would  have  shed  over  a  dying  infant,  pleading  to  keep 
him  because  of  his  helplessness,  was  fresh  in  a  memory 
that  held  but  one  thing  more,  and  that  was  Aurora's 
white  hand  upon  his  head  the  night  he  lay  upon  that 
mother's  freshly  covered  grave. 

The  sound  of  her  voice  in  that  long  ago  purple  twi- 
light was  his  idea  of  melody.  When  the  birds  sang  he 
thought  of  it,  and  when  the  waters  rippled  and  gurgled 
over  the  pebbles  down  the  mountains  to  the  river,  he 
always  said  softly  to  himself,  "  Aurora  singing  to  the 
stars.  Poor  Joe  can  hear  her.  He  aint  clar  deaf." 
She  could  trust  Joe  with  any  service ;  for  devotion 
made  him  understand,  and  follow  her  minutest  instruc- 
tions. 

She  had  explained  to  the  poor  lad  that  this  was  an 
important  mission  which  he  was  occasionally  to  per- 
form. Under  his  blue  cotton  blouse  she  hung  a  cross 
carved  and  polished  from  yellow  cairngorm  crystal  and 
held  by  a  scarlet  knot. 

It  was  a  gift  to  her  from  Remy  St.  Remy,  and  held 


92  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  US. 

a  meaning,  for  the  loyal  girl,  of  unbroken  compacts  and 
unswerving  devotion.  Joe  understood  it  as  her  mark 
upon  him,  and  that  hereafter  he  was  to  be  only  her's  to 
command,  and  disobedience  to  any  other  order  than 
Aurora's  would  be  understood  by  her  as  proof  of  his 
affection.  His  fellow  servants  also  bore  a  mark  of 
ownership,  upon  their  shoulders  in  ugly  scars  from  a  hot 
brand  of  steel,  but  his  flesh  was  spared  because  he  was 
valueless  to  his  master  Joe  was  proud  of  his  mark — 
the  shining  cross — and  it  was  a  sore  trial,  because  he 
was  to  show  it  to  no  one  except  Mr.  St.  lieiny. 

He  comprehended. that  in  serving  the  hidden  man,  he 
was  pleasing  his  mtetress,  and  this  was  enough  to  secure 
perfect  attention. 

All  this  was  explained  to  the  prisoner,  and  then  with 
a  pitiful  and  half  comical  farewell,  Aurora  left  the  man 
alone,  with  fate  frowning  her  grimmest,  and  hope  bat- 
tling obstinately  in  his  bosom  for  life,  just  a  breath  of 
life,  and  it  conquered  ! 

The  day  dawned,  but  his  one  taper  burned  on,  for  no 
light  of  this  first  morning  of  captivity  came  in  from 
heaven.  He  did  not  care  even  to  lift  the  stone  away 
that  kept  the  entrance  closed,  till  the  sun  had  touched 
the  meridian,  and  began  its  descent  down  beyond  the 
crest  of  Look-out  Mountain.  He  had  lain  in  that  dull 
stupor  of  wordless  agony  that  few  can  feel  and  live, 
but  the  remembrance  of  his  children  roused  him  at  last, 
and  going  forth  into  the  passage  he  found  Joe  sitting 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL HE.  93 

silently  upon  the  stone  floor,  with  a  hamper,  keeping 
guard,  and  patience  at  the  same  time.  Even  this  brief 
captivity  was  sufficient,  to  teach  him  how  sweet  was 
human  presence,  and  a  quick  thrill  of  pleasure  ran 
through  veins,  which  had  grown  sluggish  in  the  last 
few  painful  hours. 

"  Does'nt  yer  wish  yer  was  a  nigger  and  yer  name 
was  Joe  ?"  was  the  whispered  salutation,  as  the  negro 
parted  his  blue  covering,  and  showed  the  cross  in  his 
bosom.  "  Missy  Aurora  tied  it  on  my  neck,  and  she's 
nobody's  mistis  now  but  Joe's,  and  he's  a  fool.  I 
know'd  whar  you'se  hid;  she  bring'd  me  here,  afore 
Masser  Carryl  got  home.  He's  a  mighty  cruel  man, 
Missy  says  I'se  to  tell  dis  with  her  love  and,  says  she'll 
come  and  pay  her  spects  afore  the  moon  gits  too  big  to 
mind  her  bizness.  That's  all  I'se  to  say,  only  here's 
yer  dinner." 

Joe  laid  out  the  cold  food,  daintily  prepared  by  Au- 
rora's white  hands,  upon  a  shelf  in  the  rock,  and  turned 
to  go.  There  were  so  many  questions  to  ask  of  a  world 
that  seemed  to  have  drifted  away  somehow  in  that 
night,  that  first  long  night  of  prison  life  ! 

"Joe  did  the " 

;'  Dat's  all  I's  to  say,"  Joe  whispered. 

"  You  need  not  speak  so  low  inside  this  room,  Joe. 
How  long  have  you  waited  outside  ?" 

"  Dat's  all  I'se  to  say,"  and  he  gathered  up  whatever 
he  was  directed  to  return. 


94  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE. 

It  made  Mr.  St.  Remy's  anxiety  doubly  hard  to  en- 
dure because  he  could  not  comprehended  the  reticence 
of  the  daft  creature,  and  his  imagination  filled  the 
words  with  a  world  of  terrible  interpretation. 

"  Pray  tell  me,  Joe,  if  there  has  been  any  outbreak 
to-day  ?"  but  Joe  had  fulfilled  his  duties  as  he  compre- 
hended them,  and  before  the  sentence  was  complete 
from  Mr.  St.  Remy's  lips,  the  strong  sibilant  sounds  of 
Joe's  sentence  came  back,  reverberating  like  the  hissing 
rush  of  angry  prophecies  from  unearthly  voices. 

Silence  and  solitude  are  rapid  promoters  of  supersti- 
tious fancy,  but  here  were  terrific  realities,  which  held 
all  imaginings  in  contempt.  If  a  quiver  ran  through 
his  heart  at  the  weird  sound,  it  was  because  the  fear 
was  upon  him  that  he  should  wait  in  vain  for  another 
visit,  and  tidings  of  the  day's  doom  to  his  fellow  Union- 
ists. 

Mr.  St.  Remy  had  furnished  himself  with  the  requi- 
sites of  self-protection,  and  held  in  the  charges  of  his 
arms  a  score  of  deaths,  and  he  began  to  long  for  action. 
A  hunted  man  soon  forgets  pity  and  tenderness  to  his 
pursuers.  He  was  sorry  he  had  not  taken  his  chances 
in  an  over-mountain  escape  to  the  Union  army,  and 
died  in  the  ranks,  rather  than  hide  from  enemies  he 
longed  to  face.  But  he  was  kept  for  other  and  perhaps 
better  uses  even,  than  he  could  have  rendered  fighting 
the  foe  at  long  range,  or  in  a  closer  clash  of  bayonets. 
Providence  had  destined  him  for  special  service, 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE.  95 

though  its  value  might  seem  small.  It  would  satisfy 
his  ardor  when  the  hour  for  action  came. 

There  was  a  fiendish  pleasure  snatched  from  Carryl 
Farnam  when  he  entered  the  house  at  "  Cairngorm," 
Mr.  St.  Remy's  plantation,  and  missed  clasping  seces- 
sion manacles  upon  the  patriot's  feet.  The  hatred  that 
he  had  gathered  on  the  slope  by  the  sea,  miles  and 
miles  away,  was  to  be  expended  to-day,  but  the  means 
had  slipped  from  him. 

The  servants  were  in  terror  because  of  their  lost 
master.  They  feared  the  fate  that  had  befallen  their 
fellows  further  away,  for  the  story  of  their  sufferings 
which  had  gathered  intensity  in  its  wanderings,  was 
marvelous  for  cruelty,  when  it  reached  them.  To  be 
masterless,  meant  present  riot  and  future  starvation,  as 
they  understood  it.  Some  maintained  that  he  had 
"  done  gone  and  drown'd  hissef,  he's  so  lonesome  for 
Remy,"  but  then  there  were  missing  articles  that  no 
servant  would  have  purloined.  The  dead  mistress' 
picture  that  hung  over  master's  bed,  a  bit  of  ivory  in  a 
golden  circle,  sparkling  with  diamonds,  but  guarded 
from  ignorant  covetousness  by  the  speaking  eyes  of 
the  buried  woman.  The  Minnie  rifle  and  a  box  of  re- 
volvers that  were  bronght  from  over  the  ocean,  a  gar- 
ment or  two,  and  an  infant's  shoe  that  had  hung  for 
years  upon  his  dressing  mirror,  and  which  nobody 
dared  to  touch,  were  gone.  These  informed  St.  Remy's 
enemy  that  his  visit  was  vain.  For  a  moment,  Farnam 


96  THE  BOY  iy  BL UE. 

thought  to  burn  Cairngorm,  and  enjoy  his  vengeance 
watching  the  flames,  but  another  form  of  cruelty  was 
hinted  to  his  wicked  heart. 

Sometime  Remy  St.  Remy  should  enter  that  house, 
the  purchaser  of  her  father's  or  brother's  life,  and  he 
would  be  its  master,  and  hers.  It  should  wear  its  old 
look  of  loveliness,  and  the  servants  should  be  the  same 
to  torture  her  with  remembrance.  But  if  he  should 

fail ! he  would  arrange  for  that.  Every  rebel 

seemed  in  those  days,  and  even  now,  to  believe  that 
whatever  falls  in  their  way,  is  theirs.  This  was  the  first 
principle  that  was  evolved  by  secession. 

He  joined  his  fellows  a  few  rods  away.  They  had 
been  considerate  enough  to  permit  him  the  pleasure  of 
this  visit  unshared,  and  he  carried  the  tidings  of  defeat 
to  them,  but  promised  to  "  secure  the  game  by  and  by," 
and,  as  the  daughter's  betrothed,  would  assume  the  care 
of  the  premises. 

A  few  miles  distant,  there  was  another  Union  house- 
hold, or  rather  there  was  a  widow  whose  sons  had  di- 
vided the  house,  but  she  was  true.  One  followed  the 
seceded  states  and  its  fortunes,  and  the  other  had  writ- 
ten to  say,  that  he  should  join  the  Federal  troops  im 
mediately,  upon  his  return  to  this  country,  and  only 
prayed  that  he  might  never  meet  in  mortal  combat,  his 
elder  brother,  who  had  been  his  pride,  and  example, 
till  this  division  of  principle  and  fate.  The  mother  was 
one  of  those  stately  southern  matrons,  who  comprehend 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE.  97 

nothing  that  is  unworthy,  and  hold  honor  above  wealth 
love,  or  life  itself.  When  her  eldest  born  brought  the 
sword  of  a  rebel  for  her  to  gird  upon  him,  she  turned 
away,  saying  with  a  voice  into  whose  tones  happiness 
would  never  again  enter  : 

Hobart  Ringold,  I  could  stand  by  your  rounded 
grave  with  more  hope,  and  consolation,  than  I  have 
looked  upon  you  to-day.  Your  brother  enters  the  ranks, 
a  patriot,  a  soldier,  and  a  Christian.  If  he  dies,  I  am 
henceforth  a  childless  widow.  Perhaps  your  hand  will 
make  the  picture  reality.  You  are  your  father's  child, 
not  mine  by  any  likeness  of  life  or  purpose,  but  God 
knows  I  loved  you  best,  once,  though  not  now.  May 
the  curse  of  every  heart  broken  by  this"  war  fall  upon 
your  head.  I  have  implored  you  to  spare  yourself  this, 
but  you  have  craved  your  doom.  Do  not  touch  me 
Do  not  look  upon  the  wreck  you  have  made.  I  shall 
clothe  myself  with  black,  and  drape  my  house  in  mourn- 
ing, till  I  die — Go !"  And  her  white  hand  stretched 
toward  the  door  through  which  his  handsome  face  had 
brought  the  sunshine  of  her  earlier  widowhood,  and 
carried  now  the  happiness  of  a  fading  life. 

There  was  one  other  in  her  house,  who  held  the  old 
government  in  reverence,  and  that  was  her  silver  haired 
father.  Age  had  come  to  him  like  the  falling  of  the  dew, 
in  Autumn. 

His  joys  and  sorrows  belonged  to  others  now,  and 
were  absorbed  into  his  soul  by  a  loving  sympathy  with 
9 


98  THE  SO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

all  humanity.  He  waited  patiently  and  willingly  for  a 
summons  to  a  higher  existence  for  the  sake  of  his  wid- 
owed daughter.  His  old  swift  blood  again  rushed  through 
his  veins,  and  his  chivalric  soul  was  flooded  with  loyal 
heroism,  when  the  bugle  blast  of  contest  reached  his 
ears.  He  seemed  to  take  on  a  new  life,  and  battled 
with  his  strong  arguments  for  the  right.  He  was  a 
host  in  his  daring,  when  the  might  of  his  eloquence  was 
upon  him.  Carry  1  Farnam  spent  his  hoarded  hate  upon 
this  snowy  head,  already  bared  for  a  crown  of  martyr- 
dom. 

Mrs.  Ringold  met  this  ne-v  torture  with  a  stunned 
silence.  It  had  come  the  very  evening  she  lost  her 
eldest  child,  her  deluded  boy!  Her  father  gloritxl 
because  he  could  suffer  for  his  country,  when  age  h.-id 
eaten  away  the  sinew  with  which  he  would  once  have 
fought. 

"  Be  brave,  my  child,"  he  said,  "  liberty  is  a  goddess 
worthy  the  worship.  I  only  wish  I  were  a  thousand 
strong  men,  and  not  weak,  and  old,  and  helpless.  But 
Carryl  Farnam's  heroism  is  only  equal  to  such  enemies 
as  I.  He  is  a  secession  officer.  God  keep,  and  love 
you  my  poor  child,  but  I — 1  am,  happy,  exultant !  It 
stirs  my  sluggish  life.  Fix  your  bayonet,  brafj^art,  I 
will  go  only  as  they  did  in  Piedmont,  to  your  prison." 

His  figure  reared  itself  to  its  old  proud  height,  and 
he  looked  like  a  captured  king. 

Shame  rendered  Carryl  Farnam  viler  than  before,  and 


THE  BO  T  IN  £L  HE.  99 

he  grasped  the  old  man's  garments,  and  wrenched  him 
from  the  arms  of  his  widowed  child,  and  with  one  firm 
thrust  sent  him  forth,  only  to  fall  across  the  entrance  of 
his  house,  and  he  was  dead  ! 

The  patriot  stepped  from  his  own  threshold  to  heaven, 
to  carry  the  wrongs  of  his  people,  and  plead  the  cause 
of  freedom.  God  heard  him  ! 

Carryl  Farnam  found  his  country's  enemies  that  night, 
and  entered  the  service  of  the  southern  autocrat. 


100  THE  BOY  IN  BL  VE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


MELTED     IN     THE     FIRE. 


"But  I  am  dead,  you  sec, 
And  that  explains  it." 


"What  can  you  do  with  people  when  they  are  dead? 

But  if  you  are  pious,  sing  a  hymn  and  go, 

Or  if  you  are  tender,  heave  a  sigh  and  go, 

But  go  by  all  means,  and  permit  the  grass 

To  keep  its  green  feud  up  'twixt  them  and  you  ; 

Then  leave  me — let  me  rest." 


AURORA  FARNAM  stood  in  the  deep  embrasure  of  one 
of  her  father's  windows,  on  the  morning  of  the  day  that 
her  brother  left  them.  She  wondered  that  the  dawn 
dare  drop  upon  so  bad  a  world.  She  looked  up  to  the 
sky  and  its  light  smote  her  like  a  blow.  She  looked 
backwards  to  her  rich  life,  so  full  of  happiness,  and 
saw  how  all  the  blessing  that  a  childhood  and  girlhood 
can  understand,  were  confluent  at  her  birth,  and  flowed 
like  a  deep  bright  river,  and  then  diverged  with  the 
last  year's  waning,  and  wandered  on  till  heaven  exhaled 
every  drop,  and  left  her  a  barren  existence.  Her 
thoughts  voyaged  over  the  possible  years,  but  found  no 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  101 

place  of  rest  or  peace.  Poor,  poor  Aurora !  A  blank, 
blind,  weary  way,  and  oh,  so  hard  to  walk  alone  ! 

"  Aurora." 

Not  a  word  was  answered. 

"  Aurora,  I  am  going  now.  My  mother  cursed  me. 
What  have  you  for  me  to  make  my  thoughts  easier  to 
endure  ?" 

He  waited,  but  she  did  not  turn  or  move. 

"  Shall  all  our  lives  and  their  promises  be  blotted  out 
by  a  perverse  fancy  of  something  which  a  woman  can 
neither  judge  or  comprehend  ?  I  am  pleading  for  the 
last  time,  Aurora." 

Slowly  she  turned,  and  faced  Hobart  Ringold. 

"  Thank  God  for  this  last  assurance.  I  hoped  your 
voice  would  never  smite  my  ear  again.  If  I  were  not 
worn  out  with  the  weary  anguish  of  looking  into  the 
dark  of  a  wrecked  life,  I  suppose  I  should  repeat  the 
curse  your  mother  gave  you,  but  I  will  not ;  for  I  am 
too  weary.  I  am  ground,  and  tortured,  and  bruised 
with  the  wrongs  I  see  growing  about  me,  but  you  have 
no  more  power  to  pain  me ;  you  only  tire  with  your 
heartless  talk.  If  you  choose  to  attempt  to  strike  the 
heavens  and  beat  your  own  life  out  against  the  stars,  it 
is  nothing  to  me.  The  heavens  will  not  fall  by  the 
smiting,  though  they  may  look  cloudy  and  black.  The 
sun  will  still  shine  above  the  darkness.  This  dumb 
aching  will  find  a  balm  by-and-by,  when  the  coming 
strife  shall  need  my  service.  There  are  few  women, 
9* 


102  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

too  few  I  fear,  to  care  for  the  fallen.  Perhaps  I'll 
rest  your  head  when  a  swift  ball  fixes  your  time  to  die. 
You  see  how  calmly  I  look  to  this  end  which  is  not  far 
away.  Till  then,  let  there  be  utter  silence  betwixt  us 
two." 

Slowly  her  eyelids  crept  down  over  her  dull  eyes,  and 
she  turned  back  again  to  the  soft  air  of  Autumn,  as  if 
she  had  held  her  breath,  lest  she  should  gather  the  same 
atmosphere  that  fed  the  life  of  the  man  she  worshipped 
once,  but  loathed  to-day. 

"  Aurora,  my  Morning,  will  you  send  me  from  you 
so  ?"  and  there  were  tears  in  his  voice,  but  she  answered 
nothing. 

"  Aurora,  there  will  be  no  other  dawn  upon  my 
life." 

She  turned  again  like  an  upward  flash  of  fire  that  had 
smouldered  under  the  crust  of  Stromboli. 

"  Amen  !  As  you  have  turned  from  the  God  who  cre- 
ated you,  from  the  country  that  protected  you,  and  the 
mother  who  bore  and  loved  you,  so  may  the  sunshine 
of  the  eye  and  soul  be  blotted  out,  as  I  am  blotted  out 
from  you  forever." 

Again  she  faced  the  sky,  and  slowly  the  man  who 
once  held  her  happiness  in  his  palm,  and  tossed  it  into 
the  popular  vortex  of  enthusiastic  error,  turned  away, 
never  to  look  into  her  glowing  face  again. 

Her  father  came  next  for  an  explanation  of  this  short 
interview,  but  she  lay  upon  a  crimson  pillow,  so  pale 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  103 

and  worn,  with  that  eating  agony  always  growing  into 
her  cheeks,  and  grooving  channels  for  the  tears  that 
would  not  come,  that  his  heart  relented,  and  he  stooped 
and  kissed  her  lips,  and  went  away  resolving  that 
though  his  heart  went  with  his  son,  and  Hobart  Ringold, 
his  words  should  not  wound  his  daughter. 

"  They're  not  made  like  us — they  can't  help  it,  poor 
things  !  I'll  stay  by,  and  Carryl  shall  not  wring  her 
heart  with  his  hard  words.  I  wish  it  was  all  over 
though,  but  she  wont  be  here  if  the  time  don't  come 
soon.  The  only  way  to  fix  it,  is  to  take  sharp  measures. 
Nobody's  daughters  are  like  mine  in  this  God-forsaken 
place.  One  extreme  or  the  other, — fire-eaters  every 
one  of  them.  Her  mother  was  like  Aurora,  before  she 
took  to  her  bed,  so  alike — so  alike !" 

A  little  drop  of  human  blood  that  was  not  yet  dry, 
curdled  in  his  veins  ;  and  as  he  felt  the  cold  flutter,  he 
said  again  to  himself  : 

"  Somebody's  walking  over  where  my  grave  is  to  be, 
I  wonder  who,  and  where  ?" 

He  seated  himself  in  the  embrasure,  where  Aurora 
stood  to  dismiss  Hobart  Ringold,  and  the  heavy  crim- 
son curtains  quite  concealed  his  person  from  observa- 
tion. 

Presently  she  stirred,  and  moaned,  and  a  patient 
smile  lay  over  her  face,  as  if  moaning  eased  her  agony. 

He  father  looked  about  the  room.  Everything  bore 
the  delicate  touch  of  his  daughter's  hand.  ITore  a 


1 04  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

blossom  drooping  over  the  throat  of  a  crystal  goblet, 
there  a  filmy  netting  across  the  bared  bosom  of  Psyche 
and  a  touch  of  delicate  tracery,  blossom-like,  wrought 
with  her  happy  fingers  in  the  better  time  upon  the  satin 
cushions  of  his  cosy  chair.  Everything  seemed  frescoed 
over  with  the  glamour  of  her  busy  hands,  and  as  he 
looked,  he  too  moaned,  and  a  strong  deep  pity,  and 
something  of  the  old  natural  love  visited  his  heart,  and 
he  said  softly,  "  Poor  child,  the  rough  winds  of  these 
stormy  times  have  blown  the  light  out  of  your  sweet 
eyes  that  used  to  flash  and  melt  with  every  change  of  a 
bird's  song.  Poor,  poor  Aurora,  your  name  doesn't  be- 
fit you  any  more,  but  may-be  there  is  a  better  life  for 
us  all  in  the  next  year.  Whatever  is,  I  must  follow  my 
State,  whether  to  peace  or  ruin,  for  I  have  said  it.  I 
wish  the  words  had  never  touched  the  air." 

Aurora  heard  the  last  utterance,  and  the  dreary  un- 
dertone that  keyed  such  a  wrail  of  woe  which  she  was 
sure  he  would  hear  without  one  backward  look.  It  was 
not  like  a  Farman  to  return,  even  if  they  had  taken  the 
wrong  way.  She  lifted  her  eyelids  just  enough  to  take 
in  the  picture  of  his  face  and  see  how  worn  it  was,  and 
mark  the  bleaching  of  his  thick  brown  hair,  so  like  her 
own,  only  deeper  in  color  !  Now  she  knew  that  among 
all  her  secret  enemies,  she  had  one  staunch  secret  friend. 
There  rose  a  ripple  of  the  old  color  to  her  face,  and  she 
felt  the  flame  deepening  which  she  feared  was  quenched 
forever.  Hope  is  so  re-active — so  hard  to  die!  She 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  \  Q5 

knew  the  Farman  blood  too  well  to  stir  it  by  a  word, 
hoping  for  a  deeper  throb  of  feeling  than  welled 
responsive  to  its  own  thought. 

Carryl  entered  now,  the  last  and  hardest  to  thrust  out 
from  her  prayers.  How  could  she  let  him  be  the  vile 
possessor  of  the  same  blood  she  bore  about  in  her  great 
throbbing  heart  ? 

She  knew  he  was  to  commit  his  first  outward  act  of 
cruelty  this  day,  and  she  dared  not  think  when  the 
blood  would  be  staunched.  The  concentrated  hate  that 
is  born  of  wrong,  of  suffering  and  deception,  flooded  her 
white  lips  and  crept  up  to  her  pale  rippled  hair  as  she 
rose,  and  faced  him  with  every  muscle  full,  and  not  a 
curve  or  line  of  her  eloquent  face  unbent.  The  old  lire, 
only  a  thousand  gleams  brighter  and  fiercer  than  ever 
lit  it  before,  shown  out  of  her  eyes,  so  dull  and  dry,  and 
weary  but  an  hour  gone. 

"A  boiling  village  runs  over  with  babble  sometimes, 
and  I  suppose  by  the  young  devil  looking  out-of  your 
eyes,  that  you  have  caught  the  froth  to-day,  eh  ?" 

Not  a  word  came. 

"  You  can  be  more  insolent  with  your  face,  than  any 
man  ever  was  with  a  wicked  tongue.  You  are  a  mag- 
nificent young  lioness,  and  I  know  a  mate  to  you- 
You'll  both  be  tamed  by-and-by." 

Still  the  silence.  It  was  insufferable.  Her  presence 
stunned  his  brain.  He  could  not  say  what  he  came  to 
utter.  Her  gaze  blistered  his  eyes,  and  he  felt  the  lava 


1 00  THE  BO  Y  I2f  £L  UE. 

of  her  look  burning  into  his  very  soul.  His  hatred 
hardened  and  charred  as  he  stood  there,  but  he  could  no 
more  turn  from  her  without  her  will,  than  the  moon 
could  turn  from  the  great  light  of  the  sun  at  its  full. 
He  tried  to  speak,  but  words  were  too  tame  to  express 
his  anger.  It  would  be  like  a  drop  of  water  upon  a 
burning  prairie.  He  could  not  quench  her  with  words, 
and  in  the  desperation  of  an  untamed  beast,  he  struck 
her  with  his  clenched  hand,  but  she  scarcely  swayed  to 
the  blow.  Hardly  had  his  arm  swung  to  his  side  when 
another  blow  fell,  and  with  it,  the  proud  son  of  a  Ten- 
neseean — the  first  dropping  in  that  house,  of  the  fruit 
of  Rebellion. 

Aurora's  face  forgot  its  fire,  and  her  first  tears  rained 
upon  her  father's  bosom.  Not  a  word  was  uttered,  but 
a  kiss  answered  her  touch,  and  then  father  and  son  were 
alone.  One  silent  and  shamed,  but  there  was  no  peni- 
tence, and  the  other,  bearing  an  added  score  of  years 
upon  his  bent  figure,  all  crowded  into  five  brief  minutes, 
said:  "My  son,  I  chastised  you  because  you  forgot 
your  manhood  in  your  zeal  to  proselyte  a  woman  to 
your  political  views.  For  shame  !  Your  hand,  and 
the  words,  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  my  son,  my  only 
boy,"  and  he  passed  his  palm  so  wearily  over  his  pale 
brow ;  "  my  pride !  has  changed  my  life,  and  its  pur- 
poses. Whatever  you  have  planned  to  do  that  human- 
ity does  not  dictate,  you  must  relinquish,  or  do  it  alone, 
shall  not  take  up  the  sword  now.  Your  blow  decided 


'      THE  BO  Y  AY  BL  UE.  1 07 

me,"  and  he  laid  his  hand  upon  that  of  his  offending 
son  as  if  he  would  keep  it  from  further  shame,  but 
Carryl  cast  it  off  with  a  fling  of  disdain,  and  in  five 
minutes  was  in  his  saddle  to  join  his  fellows,  and  begin 
his  chivalric  life  under  the  new  confederacy. 

How  one  victim  slipped  from  Carryl  Farnam's 
touch,  led  by  the  hand  of  his  sister,  and  the  other  \vas 
translated  from  his  grasp  to  the  upper  host,  where  there 
are  no  more  strifes,  but  peace  reigneth  forever,  has  been 
recorded. 

Aurora's  heart  glowed  and  lifted  with  a  new  element 
of  warmth  and  hope,  and  sank  fathoms  deep  in  a  sea  of 
sorrow,  alternately.  It  was  safer  than  the  leaden  stupor 
of  the  months  gone  by.  She  saw  a  loving  Hand  lead- 
ing her  through  a  dreary  way,  where  if  there  were  re- 
lentless thorns,  there  were  some  velvety  resting  spots, 
and  a  sweep  of  untainted  air,  coming  between  the  hot 
fetid  currents  of  hate.  And  so  she  rested,  with  her  poor 
mother's  throbbing  head,  which  had  not  lifted  itself  for 
years,  lying  upon  her  arm,  soothing  the  sufferer  with 
the  sunniest  side  of  the  morning's  happenings.  Her 
caressing  white  hand,  and  the  lulling  of  her  voice, — soft- 
er now  for  the  tears  that  had  fallen  through  it,  coaxed  a 
sweet  slumber  to  the  invalid,  and  a  tenderer  touch  to 
the  face  of  Aurora. 

Joe  came  back  with  the  sinking  sun,  and  as  the  poor 
black  lad  abhorred  a  vacuum  in  his  stomach,  even  be- 
yond the  detestation  of  Nature  herself,  if  that  were 


108  THE  BOY  IN  SLUE. 

possible,  Aurora  could  get  no  information  of  Mr.  St. 
Remy  till  his  appetite  was  satisfied.  Then  between 
hostile  attacks  upon  his  great  lips,  with  his  elbows,  first 
on  one  and  then  the  other,  in  pursuit  of  stray  bits  of 
food,  he  managed  to  articulate  : 

"  Joe  didn't  say  nuffin  hissef,  and  com'd  back  mighty 
starved,  nigh  pun  a  dead  nigger,  Missy.  Met  Masser 
Carryl,  an  he  axM  Joe  whar'd  been.  Said  e'd  been  to 
grave-yard  to  feed  a  dead  man.  Dat's  all  I'se  got  to 
say,  an  he  called  me  a  sassy  darkey,  an  said  he'd  git  it 
out  o'  me,  an  turned  Yankee's  hoofs  arter  me,  but  Mas- 
ser Ringold  said,  don't,  an  he  don'ted.  Ky  !  Ef  all  de 
Yankees'  like  dat  are  hoss,  I  don't  want  to  kiss  dar 
shoes  wid  my  blackin  brush,  more  I  does'nt.  Masser 
Remy's  awful  smart,  but  he  couldn't  get  dis  child  to 
talk  out  loud  in  dat  are  hole,  not  enny.  Joe  kept  tellin, 
'  Dat's  all  I'se  got  to  say — dat's  all  I'se  got  to  say,'  an 
com'd  away,  an  here  I  be  mos  a  corpsus.  I'se  so 
empty.  O,  Lord !" 

His  mistress  left  him  to  happiness,  with  hoe-cake  and 
molasses. 

So  far  the  day  had  been  better  than  she  feared,  but 
by  and  by  the  darkness  came,  and  with  it  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  death  across  the  door-way  in  the  home  of  a 
lonely  woman,  and  a  whitehaired  man.  It  was  an- 
nounced in  the  form  of  a  polished  tale  of  duty,  fearlessly 
performed,  and  with  it,  congratulations  to  a  father  for 
having  such  a  son  !  Such  an  heroic  soldier ! 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  \  99 

How  a  groan  would  have  lessened  the  tension  of  pain 
at  Mr.  Farnam's  heart,  but  he  dare  not  let  the  sound 
escape  him,  it  was  too  late ! 

Tugging  at  his  very  life  was  the  fearful  torture  of 
these  two  little  words — too  late  ! 

Writhing  in  the  agony  of  unavailing  and  unspeakable 
penitence,  still  the  refrain  beat  out  its  syllables — too 
late ! 

Death  and  desolation  lay  in  a  recantation  of  political 
faith,  yet  had  he  been  alone,  or  even  with  Aurora,  the 
fearless  !  the  self-reliant !  the  enduring  !  he  would  have 
found  relief  in  a  renunciation  of  the  hated  policy  he  had 
adopted,  and  accepted  the  consequences,  with  its  risks 
of  life  and  liberty.  But  there  was  a  wasting  woman, 
whose  every  breath  hung  upon  tender  care  and  a  shel- 
tering home,  which  only  utter  silence  could  give  her. 
And  then  there  was  the  Farnam  stubborn  adherence  to 
a  position.  But  that — oh,  that — was  destroyed  by  a 
blow  upon  his  child,  from  the  heavy  hand  of  a  man — 
his  son ! 

Another  stroke  fell  with  the  death  of  his  father's 
friend,  the  saint  and  patriot,  and  so  the  Farnam  blood 
forgot  that  it  acknowledged  no  change, — that  for  gen- 
erations it  had  been  relentless ! 

But  the  silence  !     He  must  keep  it.     Carryl  Farnam 

kept  it  to  Hobart  Ringold.     He  dare  not  tell  him  that 

he  left  his  mother  alone  with  her  dead,  nor  whose  hand 

was  red  with  guilt!     Distance  would  soon  be  between 

10 


HO  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UK 

the  grave  and  the  murderer.  He  had  learned  from 
Hobart's  corrugated  brows,  and  Aurora's  flaming  face, 
what  the  parting  between  them  had  been,  and  he  knew 
too,  that  already  Ringold  was  counting  the  price  of  his 
epauletts,  balancing,  and,  perhaps,  deciding  that  they 
were  too  costly. 

Military  glory  may  be  very  dazzling  to  the  gazer, 
but  cankered  and  rusted  to  the  possessor ! 

But  with  him  too,  it  was  too  late ! 

Mr.  Farnam  closed  his  eyes  after  this  day,  to  any- 
thing unusual  in  his  daughter's  habits  of  absence.  He 
quieted  the  half-speculative  curiosity  which  found  ex- 
pression in  the  coarse  enthusiasm  of  their  lady  vi-ii'nrs, 
and  the  cruel  hints  of  secret  disaffection  to  secession  in- 
terests on  the  part  of  his  child,  but  as  no  one  knew  of 
the  disruption  between  herself  and  Hobart  RingoU, 
there  was  no  firm  base  upon  which  to  rest  their  gossip. 
It  gathered,  however,  and  her  haughty  reticence  angered 
her  acquaintances,  and  Carryl  had  forgotten  himself 
once  over  his  wine,  and  uttered  a  word  or  two  about  a 
divided  opinion  at  home,  and  it  must  mean  Aurora. 

The  thunder  of  the  coming  storm  reached  them  too 
late  to  be  averted. 

She  must  declare  herself,  and  she  did,  but  not  her 
purposes..  The  plea  of  Portia  before  the  Court  of  Venice 
was  not  more  eloquent. 

There  were  men  who  forgot  their  manhood,  and 
women  who  did  not  remember  their  sex,  and  its  kinder 


THE  BOY  IN BL HE.  \\\ 

characteristics.  Fanatics,  who  would  have  proved  their 
zeal  in  Salem,  in  the  years  we  would  be  glad  to  have 
blotted  from  our  history.  But  alas  !  the  truth  must  be 
recorded. 

Blithedale  was  in  the  court-room,  white  with  years, 
and  a  judge,  and  he  looked  into  Aurora's  eyes  as  if  he 
would  crush  her  from  the  world  with  hate.  His  daughter, 
handsome  and  cruel,  watched  for  a  token  of  humiliation 
upon  a  face  which  had  come  between  herself  and  her 
ambition. 

Eliston,  the  reverend,  the  pale,  thin,  dyspeptic  divine, 
who  preached  doctrines  which  are  not  found  in  the  Gos- 
pel of  Peace,  and  who  waved  a  quenchless  torch  over  his 
people,  leaned  near  one  of  his  commurieants  who  was 
now  a  prisoner.  His  son,  whose  ambition,  and  not  his 
love,  for  he  never  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word,  had 
once  aspired  to  be  the  husband  of  Aurora,  looked 
on  with  a  pleasant  sensation  of  triumph,  forgetting  how 
with  pity,  and  tears  even,  she  had  put  him  from  her, 
remembering  in  her  kindness,  that  it  is  not  a  light  thing 
to  offer  a  life  to  a  woman. 

There  stood,  too,  the  sister  of  this  rejected  suitor,  cold 
and  passionless,  but  brimming  with  the  venom  of  politi- 
cal hate,  and  disappointed  plans. 

There  was  Allan  Ruyter,  and  many  more,  and  among 
them  a  few  frowning  men  whose  garments  covered  the 
instruments  of  death,  which  would  have  let  out  the  life 
of  every  man  who  dare  reach  forth  his  hand  to  touch 


112  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

Aurora,  or  lisp  a  word  that  would  cancel  her  right  to 
liberty. 

The  preambles  were  prolix,  but  the  ubiquitious  sen- 
tences failed  to  raise  a  line  of  the  faintest  color  to  the 
young  girl's  face.  She  seemed  weary  and  uninterested, 
and  that  was  all. 

The  accusations  were  based  upon  a  lack  of  expressed 
sympathy,  the  whisperings  of  servants,  and  a  withdrawal 
from  society  when  these  new  questions  were  discussed — 
and  that  was  all. 

Her  time  had  come. 

Slowly  she  rose  and  gazed  upon  the  crowd.  The 
dull  look  was  burned  out,  which  had  strayed  vaguely 
over  the  room.  The  composure  of  the  past  hour  was 
avenged  by  fire.  Wrath,  scorn  and  pity  mingled  in  her 
face,  and  flooded  the  house.  It  blazed  out  as  if  a  vol- 
cano lay  cryptic  beneath  her  eyes,  but  she  stifled  it  with 
her  strong  will,  and  the  lulled  flame  retired.  Her  voice 
was  low,  clear  and  cold, — intensely  cold. 

She  must  make  her  own  plea. 

"  I  am  a  woman.  I  do  not  engender  strife,  nor  stir 
men's  hearts  to  strike  down  those  whose  feet  are  already 
in  their  graves.  I  do  not  preach  a  chivalry  to  my  friends 
which  expends  itself  in  heroic  trials  of  silent  women, 
whose  tongues  cannot  wag  of  war,  or  cry  for  blood.  I 
am  no  ghoul,  only  a  woman,  who  cares  for  an  invalid 
mother.  I  am  not  proving  my  delicacy  daily  by  un- 
womanly insults  to  a  flag  which  has,  till  now,  sheltered 


THE  BOY  IN  BL HE.  113 

me.  I  was  not  arraigned  under  its  folds  before  a  public 
court  for  a  gaping  crowd's  amusement.  I  was  not  asked 
to  express  in  public,  my  opinions  on  political  subjects 
which  a  woman  is  not  supposed  to  understand.  I  have 
given  no  aid  to  my  country's  enemies,  and  I  never  will. 
I  am  unshamed  by  any  word  of  accusation  you  will  be 
likely  to  apply  to  me.  I  only  blush  for  my  people,  be- 
cause they  are  content  to  war  upon  a  woman  whose  crime 
is  silence.  An  amazing  phenomenon  !  This  is  a  congrega- 
tion of  fearless  men !" 

Here  her.  eyes  blazed  again,  and  slowly  singled  every 
man  for  a  touch,  and  then  cooled. 

"  You  can  imprison  me  if  you  choose.  It  may  add 
to  your  happiness.  Only  one  favor  I  crave.  Don't 
expend  all  your  Christian  manliness  upon  Aurora  Far- 
nam,  for  there  may  be  some  other  helpless  woman  in 
this  pitiful  place  demanding  punishment.  I  am  ready 
for  sentence,  but  remember,  I  am  only  a  woman,  don't 
spare  me." 

There  was  a  ruddier  glow  upon  many  a  cheek,  than 
had  lit  its  southern  brown  for  many  and  many  a  day. 
The  speaker  of  this  valiant  committee,  said  there  was  no 
cause  for  arrest,  and  dismissed  the  glorious  assembly. 
Aurora  took  her  father's  arm,  so  tenderly  and  so  proud- 
ly offered  for  her  support,  and  with  as  calm  and  expres- 
sionless a  face,  as  perfect  indifference  always  gave  her, 
she  entered  her  old  home.  How  the  blood  of  the  arm 

upon  which  she  leaned  boiled  through  and  through  the 
10* 


1 14  1HE  BOY  IX  BL  UE. 

distended  veins !  How  he  hated  himself  because  it 
could  be  said  of  him,  "  He  is  a  secessionist,"  and  in 
after  years  it  would  be  recorded,  "  A  Farnam  was  once 
a  rebel!"  If  there  was  pride  upon  his  face,  there  was 
none  in  his  heart.  The  penalty  of  perjured  citizenship 
was  upon  him. 

"Aurora  where  is  Mr.  St  Remy  ?  I  am  not  blind. 
You  are  sheltering  some  hunted  patriot.  I  see  it  in 
many  strange  movements  of  your  own,  and  when  I  asked 
Joe  where  he  spent  his  days,  he  only  whispered  a  reply, 
and  that  was,  'Dats  all  I'se  got  to  say.'  He  is  under 
some  potent  spell,  and  in  strict  discipline.  You  may 
tell  me,  child." 

O  how  the  burden  was  lifted  !  She  laid  its  crushing 
weight  upon  the  sympathy  of  her  father,  and  she  was 
rested,  assured,  and  could  see  away  ahead  a  glimmer  of 
the  end  to  deceptions,  and  the  bondage  of  speech. 
Thank  God ! 

"  How  long,  oh  how  long,"  was  all  the  cry  she  uttered 
now.  She  thought  that  time  was  the  only  enemy  to  en- 
dure, and  he  would  be  conquered  at  last. 

The  winter  was  coming.  The  ice  might  make  the 
way  to  the  hidden  man  impassible.  It  would  not  bo 
strong  enough  for  use,  and  besides,  it  would  tell  the 
tale  of  footprints.  The  water  had  been  so  friendly,  and 
the  night  so  sheltering  !  Joe  had  always  gone  before 
the  dawn,  and  come  back  at  all  hours.  He  was  too 
strange  always,  to  make  his  motions  a  matter  of  thought, 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  115 

or  his  actions  noticeable,  besides,  he  was  a  "  useless 
nigger."  He  had  ceased  replying  to  the  questions  of 
any  one  except  Aurora,  for  the  last  few  months,  and  he 
was  pronounced  failing.  The  poor  wretch  was  never 
growing  before,  and  his  queer  thoughts  were  very 
amusing  to  the  girl  who  seldom  found  a  space  to  smile 
in,  because  of  the  dull  blank  in  the  years  before  her,  and 
the  isolation  of  her  life,  which  did  not  find  cause  for 
laughter. 

Hokey  was  installed  ruler  over  the  old  "  beauty  spot" 
of  the  valley,  called  "  Cairngorm."  Vip  labored  for 
the  Farnams,  at  a  price  that  took  some  of  the  venom 
from  his  temper,  but  there  were  times  when  he  seemed 
to  have  a  supernatural  comprehension  of  the  truth. 
You  could  see  it  in  a  quick  out-look  into  the  distance, 
as  if  he  would  bring  the  mystery  back  in  his  eyes,  and 
then  it  was  gone.  He  could  not  catch  the  salient 
points  of  the  position  of  affairs,  and  reason  them  into  a 
connected  thought.  It  would  be  a  dreary  day  to  his 
enemies  when  he  knew  all.  He  would  enjoy  the  ven- 
geance for  which  he  had  longed  and  waited.  He  would 
have  compensation  for  the  withholding  of  his  freedom,  by 
torturing  his  possessor.  He  had  ceased  to  think  him 
dead,  and  by  the  systematic  way  that  Hokey  admin- 
istered to  the  needs  of  the  half  occupied  people,  and 
regulated  the  affairs  of  the  estate  he  became  certain  that 
there  was  a  white  brain  commanding  somewhere.  Hokey 
came  seldom  to  the  Farnams,  and  though  he  was  in  his 


116  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

position  by  order  of  Carryl,  he  asked  no  advice  of  the 
elder  Farnam.  Vip  reasoned  from  wrong  premises, 
but  the  truth  lay  very  near  his  suspicions.  He  could 
not  comprehend  that  the  unfettered  man's  brain  was 
growing  strong,  and  its  heavy  machinery  working 
steadily  and  evenly  for  use,  to  himself,  his  people,  and 
his  dear  old  master. 

"  The  world  grew  slowly  to  the  great  round  hard 
thing  it  is,"  so  some  one  has  written,  and  but  few 
of  the  chained  race  will  spring  upward  into  the 
full  orbed  spirit  of  human  liberty  as  did  this  man, 
whose  fetters  were  broken  but  a  little  time  ago. 

Night  after  night,  when  the  autumn  deepened  into 
the  chill  of  winter,  Hokey  shot  his  swift  small  boat 
under  the  cliff,  and  crept  up  into  his  master's  presence 
with  winter  stores,  gathered  little  by  little,  to  escape 
observation.  The  black  man's  heart  was  so  brimming 
with  pity  for  the  haggard  restless  white  fugitive, 
that  it  would  have  been  a  positive  happiness  to  have 
given  his  own  poor  life  to  set  his  old  master  free.  A 
price,  almost  fabulous  had  been  put  upon  his  master's 
head,  for  supposed  information  carried  to  the  Federal 
lines,  but  this  faithful  friend  never  thought  of  purchas- 
ing power  at  such  a  cost,  but,  Vip  —  Oh,  the  golden 
dreams  born  of  his  vague  surmises  ! 

Once  only,  had  Mr.  St.  Remy  heard  from  either  of 
his  children.  A  stranger  had  given  Joe  a  slip  of  paper, 


THE  BOY  IN  EL UE.  117 

enclosed  in  a  folded  tulip  leaf,  to  give  to  his  mistress 
It  was  Remy  St.  Eemy's  delicate  tracery. 

"  DEAR  FATHER  : 1  am  safe,  well,  and  waiting. 

"  CAJBNGOKM." 

It  brought  mid-day  to  the  cavernous  home  of  Remy 
St.  Remy's  father,  but  the  mystery  of  its  coming,  who 
could  unravel  it?  Afterward,  when  the  winter  was 
half  wasted,  he  heard  of  his  son,  his  "  brave  boy"  as  he 
proudly  called  him  —  to  break  the  silence  of  his  hiding- 
place  —  fighting  at  Milford,  Missouri,  and  he  only 
wished  that  he  stood  in  the  ranks,  but  waiting  had  only 
made  the  transit  impossible.  His  great  strong  frame 
was  bent  and  weakened  by  captivity  and  suffering, 
until  he  could  not  have  marched  a  mile.  His  nights 
were  sometimes  shortened,  and  cheered  by  his  old 
friend  Farnam,  who  could  never  find  words  strong 
enough  with  which  to  confess  his  mistake  —  his  great 
sin. 

One  month  of  this  dreary,  winter  went  by  and  not 
one  human  voice  broke  the  silence  of  this  lonely  hermit- 
age, for  no  foot  could  climb  the  slippery  way  leading 
from  the  glittering  bed  of  the  waters  of  the  Tennessee. 

It  was  fortified  with  a  plating  of  ice,  welded  with  blows 
from  the  water,  and  hardened  by  the  breath  of  the  frost. 

It  was  a  weary,  weary  time  to  the  imprisoned  man, 
and  almost  as  terrible  to  bear  by  those  who  loved  and 
waited.  Poor  Joe  felt  as  if  his  occupation  was  gone, 
and  that  nobody  owned  him  any  more. 


1 1 8  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

Aurora  visited  Mrs.  Ringold  when  she  thought  the 
bereaved  woman  could  bear  to  look  upon  a  Farnam, 
but  this  journey  was  made  in  the  night  time.  It  was  a 
sweet  mingling  of  sympathy,  though  a  bitter  reminder 
of  griefs  too  deep  for  speech,  and  so  they  were  un- 
touched in  their  talk.  Neither  gave  secrets  to  the  other. 
They  might  be  wrested  away  in  some  hour  of  physical 
weakness,  and  were  safer  in  the  silence.  Mrs.  Ringold 
had  no  fear  of  disturbance,  because  her  servants  loved 
and  shielded  her.  Now  that  her  father's  voice  was 
silent,  there  was  little  to  call  the.  wicked  eye  of  seces- 
sion to  her  quiet  grief,  and  retired  life.  And  so  they 
waited  and  endured,  believing  that  the  day  of  deliver- 
ance was  near.  Alas ! 


THE  BOY  IN  £L UK  \  \Q 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ASUNDER. 

"Who,— 

Being  a  man  and  human,  can  stand  calmly  by, 
And  view  these  things,  and  never  tease  his  soul 
For  some  great  cure  f" 

THERE  were  hordes  of  men  before  the  Capital  waiting 
for  a  shower  of  gold.  Health  and  life,  even,  fled  from 
a  hundred  thousand  homes  to  bring  it  down.  But  no 
matter  for  that,  it  fell,  and  the  miserable  men  and 
women  with  narrow  foreheads,  and  beastly  faces,  caught 
the  treasure,  and  then  with  plethoric  purses,  reviled  the 
government  for  its  lack  of  financial  wisdom. 

They  were  not  wasted  days,  if  the  commanders  were 
gathering  experience,  nor  was  it  wasted  treasure,  if.  the 
government  was  learning  wisdom.  • 

O,  there  were  and  are  uncounted  wrongs,  but  the 
right  has  not  been  quite  conquered. 

It  is  terrible  to  watch  the  committal  of  wrongs  one 
cannot  right  -or  hinder,  and  even  the  young  heart  of 
Elngold  felt  it  when  suffering  and  waiting  made  him 
too  wise. 


120  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

He  had  been  in  Norfolk  disguised  as  a  woman,  and 
brought  back  intelligence  which  hastened  the  work  upon 
our  Naval  defenses.  With  Captain  Trissilian,  he  trav- 
eled Green  Briar  River — crossed  Elk  Mountain  and 
learned  where  the  enemy  were  in  numbers,  and  where 
at  this  point  their  rich  stores  and  provisions  were  hid- 
den, and  Major  Webster  was  sent  by  General  Milroy 
who  wasted  by  fire  the  rebel  accumulations  which  had 
left  poverty  and  hunger  in  many  a  Virginia  door-way. 
The  same  private  reconnoissance  led  the  way  from 
Romney  to  Blue  Gap,  and  the  enemy  was  routed  with 
artillery  losses,  droves  of  cattle  and  valuable  stores,  and 
to  make  their  surprise  and  discomfiture  more  unendura- 
ble to  remember,  Colonel  Deering  brought  every  man 
of  his  command  back  to  his  encampment. 

Ringold  was  scarcely  known  in  camp  by  his  name, 
"  The  Boy  in  Blue,"  and  "  Blue  Bird"  were  his  distin 
guishing  titles.  His  face  had  grown  to  a  deeper  olive, 
and  a  ruddier  glow  gathered  on  his  beardless  lips,  but 
the  same  deep  sad  eyes  looked  out  upon  the  world  and 
its  bitter  lessons.  Only  Captain  Trissilian  ever  brought 
a  smile.  His  genial  jargon,  and  merry  wit,  his  half- 
boyish,  and  wholly  innocent  love  of  frolic,  lifted  for  a 
little  the  boy's  heavy  sorrow.  Who  ever  listened  to 
the  Captain's  contagious  laugh,  felt  an  answering  curl 
about  their  mouth,  and  the  sorrowful  and  suffering,  felt 
the  medicine  of  his  presence. 

"  Blue  Bird,  I  saw  that  animal  of  yours  once  before 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UK  \ 3 1 

it  came  to  enlist.  Its  name  was  Dawn.  Must  say  I 
didn't  see  the  appropriateness  of  the  title.  Perhaps 
because  it  could  strike  daylight  with  its  heels.  I 
thought  Satan,  would  have  been  as  suitable.  From  the 
way  it  caricoled  then,  with  a  lady  in  the  saddle,  and 
such  a  splendid  creature  as  she  was  too  !  I  thought  a 
spur  would  make  him  magnificent,  and  it  has.  That 
horse  and  that  lady,  are  so  associated  in  my  memory 
that  I  did  not  recognize  the  beast  without  her,  till  I  saw 
him  lift  his  heels  to  that  ugly  Cantiniere  this  morning, 
and  then  it  all  came  back  to  me.  It  was  to  a  black 
bundle  of  calico  and  bandanna,  that  he  threw  out  his 
heels  at  that  time.  O,  Blue  Bird,  you  should  have 
seen  the  lady  who  rode  Victory  then  !  She  looked  one 
minute  as  if  she  was  made  of  a  mixture  of  rose  leaves 
and  electricity,  and  the  next,  of  rock  crystal  and  granite, — 
a  brilliant  conglomerate!  Afterward,  she  would  be 
wholly  and  truly  a  woman.  You  could  see  it  in  every 
change  of  her  speaking  eyes,  and  in  the  tenderness 
about  her  mouth.  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  I  loved 
that  woman,  and  yet  I  scarcely  had  a  right  to  claim  her 
acquaintance.  You  need  not  be  so  startled,  it  was  not 
the  love  a  man  gives  to  the  woman  he  asks  to  be  his 
wife,  but  after  the  fashion  the  Romanists  adore  a  saint. 
If  she  were  my  sister,  I  should  build  a  shrine  for  her 
and  set  it  in  a  sunny  spot,  with  the  shelter  of  trees 
above  her,  so  that  the  gleams  of  light  might  be  chased 
by  the  shadows  of  the  leaves  over  her  face,  to  keep  the 
11 


1 22  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

changes  perpetual.  She  is  southern  born,  but  you 
should  have  seen  her  eyes  dilate  under  their  mysterious 
fringes,  and  the  delicate  pallor  deepen  to  a  flush  through 
the  pure  olive  of  her  face,  when  she  saw  the  Union  sol- 
diers out !  Colonel  Berry  foundered  his  happiness  at 
sea,  while  on  his  way  home  from  France  with  that  girl. 
I  saw  it,  when  he  brought  her  home.  The  case  was  hope- 
less. She's  promised,  and  he'll  die  a  bachelor.  Such 
men  don't  have  two  attacks  of  the  tender  passion.  It 
settles  into  a  chronic  form  and  worries  them  till  they 
drop.  I  wonder  if  her  lover  is  a  rebel.  If  he  is,  then 
he  is  against  one  union,  and  she  against  another,  that's 
sure.  Don't  you  know  I  am  waiting  for  you  to  laugh  ? 
It  don't  pay  to  build  jokes,  and  have  them  tumble  with- 
out a  noise.  Where  have  your  thoughts  gone  wool- 
gathering 1" 

"  With  the  darkies.  Now  you  may  laugh  at  my  wit 
and  set  me  an  example  of  demonstrative  appreciation. 
You  were  talking  about  Victory.  The  subject  is  more 
interesting  than  worn-out  nonsense  about  swains  and 
sweethearts.  You  understand  my  preference  for  the 
Beast.  I  despise  Beauty.  It  is  so  useless  in  these  prac- 
tical days.  My  aesthetics  were  left  over  the  ocean.  If 
this  turmoil  ends  in  peace,  and  I  don't  find  a  bullet  in 
some  inconvenient  spot  about  me,  sometime  I'll  go 
back  after  them,  and  we  will  take  up  the  story  of  to-day. 
It  is  a  tiresome  subject  now.  Forgive  me  for  quarrel- 
ing with  your  themes.  I  don't  often." 

\ 


TEE  EO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  \  33 

"  Themes !  havn't  had  but  one.  Beg  your  pardon, 
but  there  were  two,  Beauty  and  the  Beast,  and  you 
gave  your  vote  to  Beast.  Where  did  you  find  the 
Beauty  ?  There !  I've  made  a  combination.  They 
are  both  in  one.  I've  secured  your  gratitude,  lift  your 
hat." 

No  smile  followed  the  inimitable  attitude  and  tone 
of  Captain  Trissilian.  He  felt  guilty  of  heedlessness, 
and  could  think  of  nothing  with  which  to  lead  Ringold's 
thoughts  out  into  a  clearer  field  for  conversation.  Rin- 
gold  broke  the  silence  that  was  gaping  at  them. 

"Miss  St.  Remy  gave  me  this  animal  when  she  left 
Mrs.  Berry,  to  join  her  father.  I  knew  her  when  a 
child,  and  have  known  her  since,  but  her  name  does  not 
sound  well  here,  even  between  us  two,  who  would  utter 
it  with  respect.  She  has  suffered,  and  is  entitled  to 
silence." 

Trissilian's  face  was  turned  to  Che  canvas  door  of  his 
tent,  but  his  hand  swung  back,  and  caught  the  palm  of 
his  friend. 

"All  right,  boy.  I've  had  little  education  in  the 
delicate  ways  of  refinement,  but  I  know  how  to  learn, 
and  you  are  sure,  I  wouldn't  ruffle  the  wing  of  a  robin, 
much  less  bring  an  unhappy  thought  to  you.  I  faucifd 
you  were  a  Frenchman  when  we  first  met,  because  I 
could  find  no  other  solution  to  the  strong  attraction  you 
possessed  for  me,  and  now  that  you  claim  to  be  aii 
American,  I  can't  quite  understand  it.  I  said  to  myself 


1 24  THE  JiOY  IN  £L  UE. 

that  morning  when  we  met  on  our  first  march,  'I'll 
be  a  friend  to  that  lad,  and  stand  between  him  and 
every  harm  that  a  brother  soldier  can  avert.  If  I  ever 
wound  you  again,  or  you  feel  the  hurt  coming,  please 
lay  your  hand  over  my  wicked  mouth,  or  send  that 
quick  eye  of  yours  after  me,  which  threw  Jetty  into 
liquidation  this  morning.  O,  but  didn't  that  "  Peculiar" 
take  on  sorrow,  easy  ?  How  he  does  love  to  adopt 
neglected  articles  about  the  camp,  and  take  charge  of 
occasional  luxuries  left  from  extra  dinners !  Don't  talk 
about  society's  contaminations.  I  believe  in  innate  de- 
pravity. I  got  so  much  of  my  creed  in  New  England, 
but  its  proofs  are  positive,  in  the  colored  people.  Don't 
you  believe  it  ?"  He  waited  a  moment  and  then  con- 
tinued. "  I  am.  boring  you,  when  I  meant  to  talk  the 
black  off  your  brows,  but  I  can't  do  it,  Ringold." 

"  Forgive  me.  I  did  not  hear  your  last  remarks. 
You  said  you  would  be  my  friend.  I  need  one,  and  was 
wondering  if  there  were  any  spared  to  me  in  my  home. 
Certainly  there  are  none,  even  if  all  are  brought  to  me 
again,  whose  hearts  are  truer  than  yours,  and  none  I 
would  grieve  more  to  lose.  I  am  not  strong  enough  to 
do  duty  on  the  field  with  you,  and  I  could  not  if  I 
wished.  If  I  may  render  service  that  will  save  life,  and 
with  life,  honor;  secure  success  to  the  Federal  arms 
with  a  lesser  flow  of  blood,  by  learning  the  plans  of  the 
enemy,  then  will  the  ignoble  name  of  spy,  have  a 
better  meaning  in  history,  and  you  will  love  and  respect 


THE  BO  F  IN  BL  UK  125 

me.  Our  General  possesses  humanity,  and  for  this,  the 
curses  of  the  blood-thirsty,  roll  from  the  North  like 
streams  of  lava,  but  they  part  into  channels  before  they 
reach  him,  and  he  stands  firmer  upon  his  heroic  height. 
O,  if  the  years  would  hurry  by,  and  vindicate  a  man 
who  is  too  godlike  in  his  ways  to  rouse  the  all-hails  of 
this  fiendish  generation  !  Thank  heaven,  there  are  some 
patient  souls,  who  see  the  grandeur  of  their  leader  and 
are  satisfied.  No,  I  could  not  strike  a  blow  or  risk  a 
random  shot  among  our  Southern  foes,  unless — un- 
less  .  I  will  not  utter  it.  Some  thoughts  like  some 

resolutions,  should  be  religiously  kept  in  silence,  but 
you  will  sometime  know  how  true  I  am  to  my  flag,  and 
how  tender  to  my  fellows  whose  arms  were  thrust  upon 
them,  as  manacles  are  put  upon  murderers.  Not 
always  has  captivity  been  symboled  by  iron  upon  the 
arms,  or  chains  upon  the  feet,  though  sometimes  even 
this  will  be  recorded  of  this  unnatural  rebellion.  It  is 
a  captivity  of  the  judgment,  and  a  taint  in  the  imagina- 
tion, like  the  poison  of  hasheesh.  When  the  fever  of 
the  soul  is  gone,  it  is  too  late  to  go  backward.  Some 
are  driven  to  strange  extremities,  not  so  much  from 
outer  circumstances  as  inner  forces,  which  the  soul  must 
obey  or  be  disloyal  to  itself.  I  speak  this  last  for  my- 
self, an  exile  from  my  home,  a  soldier  in  part,  because 
I  must  do,  or  die.  I  see  no  alternative.  We  wont 
talk  any  more  now  of  this,  if  you  please.  The  subject 
is  haunted  with  desolation,  and  infested  with  evil  soirits. 
11* 


1 26  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

I'll  go  mad  if  you  conjure  them  often.  Pardon  my  im- 
petuosity. I  did  not  mean  to  pain  you.  Victory  wants 
me,  and  I  must  have  a  dash  into  the  distance.  Jetty 
has  been  an  hour  trying  to  groom  the  beast,  but  it  is  so 
perverse,  and  the  lad  has  no  comprehension  of  the  way 
the  thing  is  to  be  done." 

Captain  Trissilian  looked  after  the  strange  boy  with  a 
feeling  of  awe,  and  astonishment. 

"  So  unlike  any  lad  ever  I  met.  Deep  as  the  sea,  and 
quite  as  mysterious.  Suffering  has  given  him  a  man's 
soul,  poor  fellow  !  and  a  woman's  voice  under  that  boy- 
ish face." 

Ringold  approached  his  horse.  "  Vic ! — beauty  ! — 
hillo !"  The  sharp  ears  were  darted  forward,  and  the 
smooth  head  turned,  like  a  naughty  child  whose  manner 
is  changed  by  the  call  of  the  mother.  So  subdued  and 
caressing  he  became  under  Ringold's  touch,  that  you 
would  have  thought  there  was  magnetism  in  his  slight 
hand,  or  a  strong  will  in  his  light  coaxing  tones. 

"  Dis  is  a  mighty  pooty  cretur,  but  awful  skittish  to 
niggers.  Pears  like  he's  a  bobolishionist.  He  wants 
me  to  feed  him,  but  he  doesn't  like  my  sciety  overly 
much.  When  I  fetches  my  hand  for  a  slap,  he  puts  his 
eye  inter  mine  an  I  doesn't  strike, — I  doesn't.  Guess 
I'll  have  to  study  strattegy  wid  dis  ere  anamile.  Wish 
you'd  come  close  up,  masser  Ringold,  I  wants  to  whis- 
per to  ye.  Bet  yer  life  I  see'd  a  Chattanooga  man  in 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  127 

dat  are  woman's  fixins,  what's  gone  ober  de  Heights. 
Qle  woman  like  dat  are  doesn't  come  to  camp  aa  trapse 
an  trapse  from  mornin  till  night.  Hain't  nobody  but  a 
gal  to  look  arter  her.  She's  awful  lumpy,  an  bolstery, 
when  she  gits  in  an  out,  but,  bress  me,  when  she  specte 
nobody's  lookin,  she's  as  frisky  as — as  a  gal  in  her  fist 
back  comb.  Then  she  cuddled  down  mighty  quick  an 
drapped  her  wail  when  she  seed  dat  are  Colonel  Berry 
comin.  Ky  !  Pears  like  it  was  masser  Allan  Ruyter, 
only  a  sight  bigger.  I  was  jes  keepin  my  eyes  oti  him 
when  Captain  Keene  gin  me  a  lick,  an  told  me  to  shet 
my  big  white  peepers.  You  knows  I  isn't  used  to  lick- 
ins,  an  I'll  tumble  him  de  nex  time  I  see's  him  feeble 
ober  dat  are  jug  in  der  tall  basket,  I  will.  Ky  !" 

Ringold's  eyes  glared  with  anger  a  moment,  and  then 
a  tender  look  at  Jetty  quite  cured  him,  even  before  he 
said : 

"  Never  mind.  Captain  Keene  is  a  beast.  Is  that  the 
suspicious  party  coming  over  the  brow  of  the  hill? 
Thank  you,  Jetty.  Your  peepers  needn't  be  shut.  I 
am  glad  you  keep  them  open." 

The  carriage  took  a  circuitous  route,  and  before  it 
came  down  to  the  bridge,  Colonel  Berry  stood  mounted 
by  the  crossing,  prepared  to  accompany  the  ladies  over 
the  Potomac. 

That  night  the  two  rebels  slept  in  Capitol  Hill  Pris- 
on, and  their  plans  of  our  fortifications  roughly  sketched, 


1 28  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  US. 

but  perfect  in  detail,  were  ashes  in  the  grate  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  War.  Allan  Ruyter  spent  the  following  year 
at  the  North. 

But  for  Ringold's  pleading,  he  would  have  gone  to 
his  grave.  Tender  souls  are  not  always  just.  The 
rebel's  daring  plan  was  thwarted,  and  there  was  no 
vengeance.  The  thirst  for  life  was  slaked  by  the  ap- 
pealing of  a  boy,  and  not  by  justice.  The  loneliness 
of  a  prison  may  have  brought  penitence  for  there  were 
no  burning  words  from  other  lips  here  to  keep  the  fever 
of  rebellion  raging.  The  combat  within  the  soul,  none 
may  witness,  but  the  dead  sins,  and  the  wrongs  secretly 
fostered,  but  here  stricken  powerless  and  left  by  the 
way,  are  strewn  and  forgotten,  but  the  consequence,  is 
acknowledged  and  remembered. 

General  McClellan  was  ill.  A  fever  kept  him  in  his 
room,  but  he  attended  to  his  duties,  even  upon  his  bed. 
The  first  year  of  war  had  gone  out.  There  was  hope 
for  the  future,  but,  oh,  so  distant !  Sickness  prevailed 
generally.  There  were  inadequate  men  in  charge  of  the 
sanitary  arrangements  for  the  soldiers.  The  doctors 
were  busy,  and  for  the  most  part  skilful.  Of  the  cler- 
gy a  few  glorious  men  there  were,  but  many  preferred 
anything,  rather  than  Heavenly  ministrations. 

The  winter  was  sullen.  The  rains  made  transit 
almost  impossible.  Fears,  vague  and  horrible,  crept 
into  Ringold's  heart.  The  conversation  with  Captain 
Trissilian  about  Reiny  St.  Remy,  troubled  him.  It 


THE  BOY  IN  JSL  UE.  129 

was  conjuring  a  ghost.     It  forced  him  to  think  of  things 
he  would  gladly  have  dropped  out  of  his  recollection. 
Fancies  reared  by  terrible  pictures  .of  southern  cruelty, 
made  his  pulse  run  wild.     He  was  sometimes  almost 
mad.     The  Future's  impenetrable  veil  tortured  him  in- 
cessantly.    The  whence  of  all  this  sorrow,  irritated  and 
humiliated  him.     The  whither  of  the  Reapers  of  Death 
no  one  dare  imagine,  least  of  all  this  sad-eyed  exile. 
He  could  achieve  little,  though  he  dare  attempt  any- 
thing.    He  felt  the  strong  clasp   of  Colonel    Berry's 
friendship  ajid  confidence,  more  than  that,  an  unspeaka- 
ble interest  in  his  military  career  which  longed  to  ex- 
press itself  in  active  personal  sacrifice  for  him,  but  he 
could  not  find  the  way.     He  saw  a  grave  between  him- 
self and  the  next  spring  time,  if  this  quietude  of  the 
army  was  continued.     He  had  heard  that  there  were 
dear  old  friends,  now  deadly  enemies,  but  a  little  way 
from  the  spot  where  his  brain  was  burning  into  despair. 
His  interview  with  Carryl  Farnam,  and  an  elaborate 
account  of  the  wretched  braggart's  adventure  found  its 
way  to  him  through  Richmond  prints.    'This  crushed 
the  very  pride  of  his  life  out  of  him.     If  all  had  fallen 
so  low  who  were  reared  in  the  valley  of  his  old  home, 
and  gathered  their  love  of  truth  and  honor  together 
with  himself,  why  should  he  care  to  redeem  them  to  a 
Republic  of  which  they  were  unworthy  ?     He  was  only 
saved  from  utter  hopelessness,  by  a  consciousness  held 
in  his  heart  by  the  merciful  angels,  that  there   were 


130  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

some  by  the  bluffs  and  reaches  of  the  lovely  Tennes- 
see who  were  still  true  to  their  manhood,  true  to  their 
country,  and  who  would  cling  to  the  dear  old  flag,  and 
fight  for  its  folds,  or  die  under  its  falling  stars. 

He  asked  to  be  transferred  to  the  Western  army. 
To  be  sure,  there  were  no  reasons  why  he  should  not  go 
whenever  he  had  honorably  fulfilled  his  engagements 
with  Colonel  Berry.  There  was  no  time  mentioned  in 
his  arrangement  with  him,  but  he  did  not  know  how  he 
had  entered  this  strong  man's  heart,  from  which,  to 
wrench  himself  away  now,  would  leave  a  gaping,  aching 
spot,  or  he  might  have  had  no  courage  with  which  to 
utter  his  request.  He  had  unconsciously  made  many 
an  hour  of  sunshine  in  the  colonel's  canvas  home,  and 
yet  it  was  seldom  that  either  smiled.  When  only  the 
silence  was  left  the  colonel,  after  the  usual  good-night, 
there  was  always  an  hour  of  mysterious  loneliness, 
and  an  entire  inability  to  withdraw  his  thoughts  from 
the  strange  boy.  He  could  not  penetrate  the  life  or 
purposes  of  the  young  man,  nor  did  he  really  wish  the 
veil  lifted,  but  why  did  his  spiritual  presence  seem  so 
palpable,  when  he  had  gone. 

There  is  a  spiritual  element  surrounding  some  people, 
that  lingers  as  if  they  had  gone  only  in  a  physical  sense, 
and  left  their  souls  with  ours. 

If  to  give  our  inner  thoughts,  the  created  or  inspired 
fancies  and  ideas  of  our  best  selves,  to  another,  is  not 
sharing  the  immortal  with  them,  and  permitting  them 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UK  131 

to  become  a  real  portion  of  our  existence — of  our  im- 
perishable us,  and  indivisible  with  us,  how  is  it? 

The  deepening  shadows  on  Ringold's  face,  and  the 
suffering  which  wrote  itself  with  unmistakeable  hiero- 
glyphics about  his  mouth,  appealed  to  the  colonel's 
pity. 

He  wrung  his  aid's  small  hand  with  a  grasp  into 
which  was  compressed  the  great  sorrow  he  endured  to 
say  yes,  but  he  made  no  effort  to  detain  him.  The  col- 
onel would  not  permit  Ringold  to  make  this  journey 
alone  to  a  strange  field  with  that  delicate  reticence  of 
the  lad's  nature  unguarded  from  the  roughness  of  cam- 
paigning. 

General  McClellan  furnished  all  needful  recommenda- 
tions, but  to  Colonel  Berry  was  left  the  care  of  provid- 
ing against  loneliness. 

A  thought  had  flitted  over  the  surface  of  Colonel 
Berry's  mind  many  times,  but  now  it  sunk  down  into  a 
serious  consideration.  Captain  Trissilian  was  fitted  for 
a  higher  rank.  It  would  benefit  the  service.  His  own 
men  were  attached  to  him,  and  they  would  grieve  at 
parting,  but  would  love  his  memory  too  well  ever  to 
be  anything  less  than  they  were. 

Pie  had  resolved  to  make  an  effort  to  procure  him  a 
higher  position  with  General  Grant,  and  in  a  few  days 
he  succeeded.  He  had  detained  Ringold,  under  one  pre 
tence  and  another,  until  he  was  certain  of  success,  or 
defeat  to  his  plan.  For  a  moment  Captain  Trissilian 


132  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

thought  an  eagle  upon  his  shoulder  too  dearly  pur- 
chased by  this  parting  from  the  soldiers  who  grew  by 
his  side  among  the  New  England  hills,  but  it  glittered 
and  gleamed,  and  coaxed  him  with  its  pretty  tinsel, 
and  then  the  knowledge  of  Ringold's  determination  to 
be  nearer  his  people  in  the  fray,  or  may-be  in  their  fall, 
almost  reconciled  him  to  the  change.  There  was  a 
promise  of  stir  and  strife  on  the  Mississsippi,  and  he 
was  weary  waiting. 

Colonel  Berry  announced  the  change  to  Trissilian's 
company,  and  told  them  that  a  fitness  for  a  higher  place, 
and  the  need  of  good  men  in  important  positions,  and 
not  personal  ambition,  raised  the  rank  of  the  beloved 
officer.  He  told  them  too,  of  the  regret  which  this  part- 
ing brought  to  the  man  who  loved  them  all  too  well  for 
the  possible  happenings  of  war. 

There  were  no  shouts  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  for 
tears  choked  their  utterance.  Each  man  parted  with 
Captain  Trissilian  with  a  wring  of  his  hand,  and  a  "  God 
bless  you,  Cap,"  which  quite  broke  him  down.  There 
is  an  expression  often  used — but  sadly  out  of  place  /or 
the  most  part — which  includes  the  word  "  unmanned." 
A  soldier  who  weeps  when  the  highest  elements  of  his 
nature  are  stirred,  proves  his  courage. 

"  The  bravest  are  the  tenderest." 
The  parting  with  his  men  over,  the  future  brightened 


THE  BOY  IN  BL HE.  \ 33 

and  he  could  catch  gleams  of  military  glory  coming 
through  this  Western  opening. 

That  night,  the  last  one  between  Colonel  Berry  and 
his  aid,  was  full  of  suppressed  feeling,  and  a  long  look 
ahead.  The  dim  light  of  the  camp  fell  upon  neither 
face,  for  each  avoided  revelations  of  expression  which 
would  leave  pain  in  the  memory. 

The  colonel  thanked  Ringold  for  the  faithful  aid  he 
had  rendered  him,  and  the  great  secret  service  he  had 
given  his  country.  He  told  him  that  he  was  a  remind- 
er to  him  of  a  dear  friend  whose  name  must  be  un- 
spoken in  camp,  but  for  whose  sake,  as  well  as  for  his 
love  to  the  land  he  was  proud  to  call  that  of  his  nativity, 
he  should  live  or  die  in  arms.  This  separation  was 
hard  to  endure,  but  it  was  best  so.  He  hoped  their 
mutual  friend  would  be  satisfied  with  the  change,  if  by 
any  possibility  the  event  should  reach  her.  He  did  not 
doubt  but  she  had  found  a  passage  to  her  home,  or  she 
would  not  have  left  her  friends  in  such  painful  suspense 
in  regard  to  her  safety. 

A  shudder  passed  over  Colonel  Berry's  strong  frame, 
and  shook  the  table  upon  which  both  leaned,  with  shaded 
faces.  Ringold's  quick  nature  overflowed.  He  laid  his 
brow  upon  his  arm  where  it  rested,  and  sobbed  in  great 
strong  vibrations  of  feeling.  The  colonel  reached  over 
his  hand  and  laid  it  upon  the  thick  black  curls,  but  the 
Boy  in  Blue  lifted  it,  and  shrank  away.  Colonel  Berry 
felt  this  withdrawal  from  human  sympathy,  and  under 
12 


1 34 

stood  it,  at  least  he  measured  it  by  his  own  soul's  un 
willingness  to  share  its  sorrows  with  another. 

After  a  time  the  sobs  died  out  into  a  dull  heavy  sigh, 
convulsive  still,  but  a  proof  that  the  storm  had  passed, 
though  the  waves  could  not  be  lulled  in  a  moment. 

"  Colonel  Berry,"  he  said,  under  the  surf-beat  of 
emotion,  "  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  perhaps  as 
much  for  the  sake  of  our  friend,  or.  more,  than  for  any 
service  I  have  been  able  to  render  you.  She  will  be 
grateful  always.  I  know  her,  she  does  not  forget  a 
kindness.  I  have  been  able  to  glean  something  of  her 
since  we  parted.  She  is  safe,"  here  the  colonel  rose 
suddenly,  and  faced  Ringold,  with  an  eagerness,  the  lad 
had  never  seen  in  his  superior's  eyes  before,  and  his 
words  failed  to  finish  the  sentence.  The  colonel's  face 
asked  for  further  information,  but  it  did  not  come.  A 
grey  pallor  fell  down  upon  the  lips  of  Ringold,  and 
spread  to  his  forehead  slowly,  like  a  film,  and  then  was 
lifted,  and  a  deep  carnation  took  its  place.  This  quick 
ebb  of  life  had  only  come  back  when  the  colonel's  strong 
arm  lifted  him  from  his  camp  stool,  and  pillowed  his 
head  for  a  moment  upon  a  soldier's  cot.  The  next 
instant  Ringold  was  saying  :  "  Good  night,"  perhaps  the 
good  night  of  a  lifetime.  They  might  greet  each  other 
with  a  good  morning  that  would  have  no  ending,  when 
they  faced  each  other  again.  Who  would  dare  think  of 
it,  if  the  truth  did  not  usher  itself  uncalled  into  the 
presence  of  parting  friends  ? 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  135 

"  Good  night,  Ringold.  God  keep  you  in  His  tender- 
est  care.  You  are  not  strong  enough  for  the  life  you  are 
enduring,  nor  strong  enough  to  stay.  I  understand  you 
now,  and  I  may  speak  it.  It  will  be  no  wrong.  You 
are  older  at  heart  than  you  are  in  your  face.  You  love 
Remy  St.  Remy."  (How  he  mistook  the  emotion  !  Men 
in  love  are  so  blind,  and  yet  believe  they  see  so  clearly.) 
"  It  is  a  useless  affection.  I  pity  you,  and  I  may  for  I 
love  her  too,  with  the  strength  of  manhood,  and  a  hope- 
lessness that  makes  existence  almost  empty.  You  are 
young.  Forget  her  if  you  can.  She  is  promised  to 
another.  She  will  not  cancel  her  word  unless  he  should 
prove  a  traitor,  to  his  country  and  then " 

"  He  is.  Good  night  and  good  bye,  Colonel  Berry," 
Ringold's  voice  was  low,  and  sweet,  and  rich,  cadenced 
to  a  sadness  that  held  happiness  in  its  melody,  as  he 
uttered  these  words.  Fancy  lifted  a  mirage  before  the 
stars  that  night,  and  colonel  and  aid  looking  up,  each 
from  his  tented  door,  saw  the  future.  Ringold  kept 
his  pictures  in  his  heart,  and  we  will  not  bring  them  to 
the  light.  Colonel  Berry,  pitied,  and  loved  the  lad,  but 
he  was  a  lad  and  he  did  not  feel  angered  if  Ringold  had 
left  his  heart  in  the  Tennesseean's  eyes.  "  How  could  he 
help  it,"  he  muttered,  "  poor  child  !  how  could  any  one 
help  it,  she  was  so  lovely,  so  womanly,  and  so  beautiful." 
The  barren  winter  night  grew  soft,  and  seemed  through 
the  dusk  to  be  clothed  with  summer  raiment,  and  the 


1 36  THE  BOY  IN  EL  UE. 

seige-circled  city  to  become  a  resting  place  for  happy 
pilgrims. 

Sorrow  had  its  solace  to-night,  and  faith  and  hope 
were  aa  infinite  balm.  Reconciled  to  the  present,  and 
exalted  for  the  future,  by  one  sentence,  "  He  is,"  Col- 
onel Berry  was  satisfied. 

Heaven  stoops  to  good  men's  souls  sometimes,  to  rest 
and  soothe  them  with  its  tender  caresses. 

At  dawn,  Colonel  Trissilian  and  his  aid,  Ringold  of 
Tennessee,  as  his  pass  read,  and  Jetty,  grinning  and 
chattering  with  irrepressible  excitement,  flew  over  the 
distance  which  lay  days  and  nights  between  Washing- 
ton, and  where,  the  bomb-shells  were  to  pelt  the  walls 
of  Fort  Henry,  and  force  submission  from  Donnelson. 

Thank  Heaven  their  first  view  of  Death's  harvesting 
was  not  so  terrible,  and  the  patient  willingness  of  our 
fallen  men  to  let  their  lives  ebb  out  for  victory,  made 
the  conflict  easier  to  think  about  when  the  groans  had 
died  away,  and  the  sufferers  were  at  rest.  Action 
cuied  the  steady  dull  pain  of  thinking,  and  waiting, 
which  was  taking  drop  by  drop,  the  life  of  the  Boy  in 
Blue. 

There  came  at  times  a  dreamy  expression,  or  rather 
an  out-look,  a  present  expectancy  in  his  eyes,  so  his 
colonel  thought,  and  he  sought  amid  his  own  new  sensa- 
tions for  the  reason  of  the  glow.  He  doubtlesss  attrib- 
uted it  to  their  approach  to  a  spot  where  they  might 
meet  a  few  of  the  loyal  men  who  had  escaped  over  the 


THE  BOY  IN BL HE.  \ 37 

mountains  to  fight  under  the  Federal  colors,  and  per- 
haps his  kindred. 

They  arrived  at  Cairo  on  Sunday,  the  second  day  of 
February,  and  the  colonel  reported  to  General  Grant, 
and  was  assigned  to  immediate  duty. 

At  the  hotel  in  Cairo  there  was  a  thrill  of  excitement. 

Jetty  had  waded  the  sloughs  and  covered  himself 
with  layer  after  layer  of  the  liquid  clay  and  floating  dingi- 
ness  of  this  filthy  city,  which  lightened,  rather  than 
deepened  his  color.  He  was,  in  fact,  so  black  that  Col- 
onel Trissilian  insisted  that  he  could  not  see  him  at  all 
unless  his  face  was  smeared.  He  came  to  his  master's 
apartments,  which  he  always  shared  with  a  cot  or  blank- 
et, and  dumped  his  individual  bundle  of  dirt  and  invisi- 
bility plump  on  the  floor. 

"  0  Lor,  de  blessed  day  is  comin,  sartin.  I  see'd  it 
a  flyin  down  dem  are  stairs  when  I  com'd  inter  de  hall, 
an,  sure  as  def,  if  I  could  a  got  my  big  mouf  apart,  I 
should  have  split  mysef,  mebby,  'cause  J  see'  d  Masser 
Berny  St.  Remy  a  goin  out,  an  he  jes  flew'd  onto  his  hoss 
an  was  off"  like  s'cat,  afore  I  could  say  '  how'do.'  Den 
when  dis  chile  was  enamost  dead,  cause  I'se  so  struck, 
dat  are  yaller  gal  of  Missy  Ringold's,  what  she  sent  oflf 
from  Masser  Hobart,  cause  he  fool  with  her  pooty  curls 
too  much,  and  she  come'd  right  up  to  me,  an  she  says, 
says  she,  '  What's  de  matter,'  says  she.  '  Pears  like 
you'd  got  a  fit.  You  look,'  says  she,  '  like  a  Chatta- 
nooga boy,  you  does,'  says  she.  '  I  knows  I'se  seen  dat 
12* 


1 38  1HE  BOY  IX  BL UE. 

are  face  afore.  Dare  ain't  many  got  so  good  a  color. 
What's  yer  name  V  says  she.  '  No  such  ting,'  says  I. 
'  My  name's  Jetty — Jetty,  dat's  all,  an  I  doesn't  spect 
to  have  any  more  till — till  my  master  gits  to — to — to 
be  married  or  killed,  or  sumfin,'  and  den  I  runned  right 

7  '  O 

in  here,  an  I'se  sittin  here.     Does  yer  see  me  1" 

Ringold  did  see  him,  and  a  glow  of  hope  lit  the  quiv- 
ering heap  with  touches  of  grace  that  were  certainly  seen 
only  in  the  fancy  of  the  Boy  in  Blue. 

All  that  day  was  spent  in  hurrying  from  superior  to 
inferior  officers'  quarters  for  tidings  of  Abernethy  St. 
Remy,  but  nothing  could  be  gleaned  of  his  whereabouts. 
He,  too,  was  in  secret  service. 

For  once,  too  much  faith  had  been  placed  in  the  dis- 
cretion of  Jetty.  The  busy  swarm  of  people,  and  the 
merriment  below  won  him  from  the  quiet  of  the  cham- 
ber, where  he  was  bidden  to  keep  himself,  and  Ringold 
entered  under  the  bright  gas-light  of  the  hall  chandelier, 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  Jetty  in  a  huge  chair  in  a  side  apart- 
ment, serving  the  cause  of  science  in  a  phrenological 
way. 

Standing  over  him  was  a  thin  specimen  of  the  long 
haired  Apostle  of  Bumps  and  Organs,  endeavoring  to 
seperate  the  wooly  thatch  of  Jetty,  and  prove  by  the 
"  corrugations  of  the  negro's  cranium,"  that  this  speci- 
men of  the  pure  African,  was  worthy  to  rank  with  the 
largest  sized  brain  that  ever  wore  a  white  cover. 

The  perceptive  and  reflective  indications  he  compared 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL UK  139 

with  his  own.  That  was  accepted  by  the  audience  with 
applause,  and  the  man  of  science  bowed  his  acknowl 
edgments  of  the  appreciation,  but  somehow  Jetty  de- 
murred. 

"  Dis  chile  like  you  1  Spect  not.  De  Lor  wouldn't 
a  done  sich  a  ting  to  a  poor  black — what  ye  call  em — 
like  I  is.  Please,  sah,  I'd  like  to  go  to  my  missy,  no, 
my  massa." 

'•  Be  quiet.  Your  race  is  too  modest.  You  are  in 
many  particulars  like  myself,  but  .you  are  unconsciously 
an  undeveloped  man — " 

"  0  Lor  !     O  Lor  !     Spect  Fse  nothin  o'  the  sort." 

"  I  repeat,  an  undeveloped  man  of  great  mental  pow- 
er. You  are  stronger  because  of  your  deeper  color. 
You  are  remarkably  moral.  Truth  and  honesty  are  in 
your  face." 

"  Je-ru-sa-lum !  What  ud  massa  Ringold  give  to 
know  dat  ar  ?  Spects  he'd  hire  a  boy  to  Jug  de  stealin 
an  lyin  too,  dat  dis  chile  performs  now  and  den.  Don't 
tell  me  any  more,  cause  folks  as  is  too  good,  dies,  an 
de  white  folks  puts  em  in  books." 

"  You  are  facetious,  but  manly." 

"  O  Lor  !  Please  to  don't.  I  cau't  stan  any  more. 
I  shall  bust,  an  den — '' 

"  Jetty,"  said  a  voice  by  his  side,  "  you  can  go  with 
me  to  our  apartment." 

"  Dare  you  take  this  man  from  the  hands  of  science, 
whoso  sacred  voice  is  revealing  to  him  his  heritage — 


1 40  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

his  brain  treasures — in  fact,  unveiling  the  mysteries  of 
his  being  to  his  wondering  vision  1" 

This  burst  of  indignant  eloquence  brought  no  reply 
only  by  a  gesture  of  that  little  hand  of  Ringold's,  and 
an  imperious  flash  of  the  eyes  that  loosened  the  Phreno- 
logical fingers  from  Jetty's  wool,  as  if  they  had  been 
electrified. 

The  negro  followed  the  motion  of  his  master  with  a 
merry  chuckle,  that  was  so  full  of  satisfaction  with  the 
apparent  tyranny,  that  there  ran  a  thrill  of  admiration 
through  the  group  of  witnesses  at  the  power  and  beauty 
of  the  boy. 

"  How  dare  you  control  that  man  made  in  the  image 
of  God  ?"  said  the  tragic  man  of  science. 

"  Because  he  is  mine,  sir,"  Ringold  replied  in  his  deep 
impressive  tones. 

"  There  is  no  more  bondage  out  of  Rebeldom.  You 
are  a  secessionist.  Where  is  the  Provo:>t  Marshal. 
Have  him  arrested." 

"  As  you  please.  That  negro  is  mine  to  do  with  him 
as  I  choose,  because  he  adopts  my  will  as  his  own.  In 
Europe  he  was  free,  and  gave  himself  to  me  with  a  de- 
votion that  you  have  neither  heart  or  brain  to  compre- 
hend. You  have  measured  his  mind  by  your  own,  and 
very  likely  you  are  correct,  but  his  heart  is  as  like 
yours  as  sunshine  for  a  whole  world,  compared  to  a  fire 
bug.  My  room  is  thirty-four .  Send  for  the  marshal," 


THE  BO  Y  IN  £L  UK  ]  41 

and  bowing,  the  haughty  boy  left  the  room,  with  an  up- 
roarious cheer  following  him  up  stairs. 

"  O  Jetty,"  and  the  voice  fell  into  a  tearful  tone  when 
the  door  was  once  closed,  "  why  will  you  subject  me  to 
such  disagreeable  people  V 

"  De  Lor  knows  I  didn't  go  for  to  do  it,  but  it  was  so 
lonesome  like,  an  Sunday  night  allus  makes  me  tink  ob 
home  an  somebody,  an  how  we  was  allus  meanderin 
about  dis  time,  wid  somebody's  arm  about  somebody's 
pusson,  an  singin  meetin  tunes,  'cept  now  and  den,  when 
somebody  was  say  in  how  dey  was  reflectin  on  his 
thought,  an  contemplatin  de  lilies  ob  de  field,  an  mean- 
ed — don't  go  for  to  laugh — some  lilies  isn't  w  hite,  dey's 
yaller,  an  mebby  somebody  looks  yaller  in  de  moonlight, 
least-wise,  somebody  lubed  somebody,  an  dat  made 
somebody  hansum  to  somebody.  I  won't  go  no  more 
where  I  says  I  won't  an  I  don't  tell  no  lies,  dat  are  man 
says  I  doesn't.  Let's  say  our  prayers  an  go  to  sleep, 
honey  chile.  De  angels  knows  I  didn't  go  for  to  make 
you  look  sorry,"  and  so  the  good  creature  forgot  all  the 
grand  things  that  the  man  of  science  said,  and  went  to 
sleep  like  a  bird.  But  Ringold's  pillow  was  untouched 
all  that  long  night,  and  the  morning  witnessed  a  change 
in  their  hotel. 

There  was  no  lingering  in  this  department.  They 
were  too  far  away  from  conflicting  military  opiniona 
They  were  as  one  head  and  one  heart  in  the  cause. 


1 42  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

General  Grant  and  Commodore  Foote  were  sufficient 
for  their  positions. 

On  Monday  afternoon  six  gun-boats  and  several 
steamers  left  Cairo,  and  puffed  up  the  Ohio  river,  and 
entered  the  Tennessee  after  nightfall. 

Colonel  Trissilian  was  becoming  speedily  accquainted 
with  the  details  of  his  position,  and  mastering  the  plan 
of  attack. 

General  Grant,  with  that  penetrative  and  almost 
supernatural  look  into  a  fellow-soul,  measured  and 
comprehended  the  strange  young  officer,  and  gave  him 
his  command  with  a  hearty,  soldierly  welcome. 


TEE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  143 


CHAPTER    IX. 


IN    BATTLE. 


11  Mark  yon  ship  far  awa 
.sleep  on  the  wave,  in  the  last  light  of1 
With  all  its  hushed  thunder  shut  up." 


f  day, 


"  And  you 

Whom  this  song  cannot  reach  with  its  transient  breath. 
Deaf  ears  that  are  stopped  with  the  hrown  dust  of  death, 
Blind  eyes  that  are  dark  to  your  own  deathless  glory; 
Silent  hearts  that  are  heedless  to  praise  murmured  o'er  ye, 
Sleep  deep  !  sleep  in  peace !  sleep  in  memory  ever! 
Wrapped  each  soul  in  the  deeds  of  its  deathless  endeavor." 


THURSDAY  the  contest  began.  Commodore  Foote 
with  his  clad  warriors  lay  in  the  river  fishing  for  harm- 
less torpedoes,  while  the  swarming  transports  touched 
shore  just  below  Panther  Island,  and  sent  the  troops  to 
their  first  warlike  experience,  in  light  fighting  costume, 
but  heavy  with  cartridges. 

Nearly  all  the  soldiery  were  fresh  from  the  innocent 
employments  of  rural  life  and  brimming  with  self  im- 
molation for  the  waiting  altar. 


144  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

Brief  as  the  moments  of  swift  planning  are  in  the 
brain  of  General  Grant,  and  speedy  as  are  their  execu- 
tion, this  time  he  was  too  late. 

Knee  deep  in  mud,  the  brave  fellows  hurry  on.  Speed 
is  impossible.  The  will  strains  every  muscle,  and 
eager  eyes  of  platoon  after  platoon  are  straight  ahead 
reaching  after  victory,  or  death.  It  is  a  spectacle  that 
neither  pen  or  brush  can  perfectly  portray.  Slow,  oh 
so  slow  !  Not  a  step  falters,  every  foot  is  lifted  from 
its  deep  print  in  the  watery  soil  with  an  effort  like  that 
of  Marshal  Ney's  hastening  from  Moscow.  Not  a  man 
of  them  would  have  flinched  from  the  thinly  frozen 
Dneiper  in  that  magnificent  retreat.  It  was  written  in 
their  faces. 

A  roar — a  swift  rushing  sound,  and  like  the  myste- 
rious flight  of  a  meteor,  a  projectile  spans  an  arch,  and 
crashes  out  of  sight.  They  know  the  battle  has  begun 
and  they  are  not  in  position  to  smite  the  enemy  in  the 
rear.  The  cannon  upon  the  steamers  could  not  restrain 
their  impetuosity,  nor  hush  their  thundering  reproaches 
till  the  hurrying  army  came  up.  Iron  lips  of  Colum- 
biads  call  to  the  rebels,  and  they  send  back  deathly 
replies.  Contending  cannon  claim  of  each  other  sub- 
mission, but  neither  yields.  Pivoted  guns  throw  de- 
fiance to  the  screaming  shells  from  brave  fellows  in  the 
Fort.  Every  winged  ball  is  a  burden  to  the  impatient 
infantry,  but  the  earth  resists  them.  On  they  spring 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  145 

and  boom  after  boom  marks  the  terrible  music  of  their 
march. 

Colonel  Trissilian's  impatient  nature  rebels  against 
the  inevitable.  O  the  weary  distance  ! 

Ringold's  lips  were  close  and  colorless.  Now  and 
then  a  tear  glistened  upon  his  long  dark  lashes,  but  a 
quick  flutter  of  the  lids  shook  it  off,  and  few  suspected 
the  eager  spirit  that  was  supressed  under  that  young 
mask.  Victory  struggled  as  if  he  partook  of  his  mas- 
ters checked  will. 

Here  and  there,  Ringold  reached  down  his  strong 
pitiful  hand  to  help  a  fellow  soldier  who  sunk  too  deep 
in  the  mire,  and  then  the  sweet  tender  look  that  belonged 
to  better  days  fell  over  his  face,  as  if  its  right  to  stay 
should  no  longer  be  questioned,  but  the  next  roar  of 
shell  shook  the  light  out  of  his  eyes,  and  off  his  lips,  and 
he  was  again  transformed  to  steel. 

The  thunder  peals  are  prolonged, — sound  flows  into 
sound,  and  the  reverberations  hold  every  second  of  an 
hour. 

It  tingles  through  their  veins,  and  leaps  into  their 
muscles,  but  they  cannot  lift  a  hand  to  help  the  coming 
triumph. 

Wait  patiently,  eager  souls,  a  little  time,  and  then 
greater  conquest,  and  a  richer  harvest  for  the  Pale 
Reaper  of  brothers  by  blood,  but  enemies  in  hate. 

Like  blows  from  a  Titan,  steel-sinewed,  fall  the  shot 
13 


1 46  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

and  shell,  upon  the  few  who  would  not  desert  their  flag 
at  Fort  Henry.  Smiting  the  gun-boats  with  their  mar- 
velous rebel  aim,  they  plunged  ^through  and  throu-h 
their  armored  sides,  but  still  the  wheels  came,  nearer, 
closer,  with  the  flame  leaping  incessantly  from  their 
open  mouths  as  if  to  swallow  the  resisting  enemy. 

A  deathly  pall  of  white  vapor  wraps  the  gunners 
upon  the  Essex,  but  it  does  not  burn  away  their  patriot- 
ism. They  are  willing  to  die  even  thus,  if  victory 
follows.  The  rebels  find  courage  in  the  wild  cry  of 
agony  upon  the  water,  and  renew  their  fierce  cannon- 
ading, but  their  aim  is  unsteady,  and  the  three  iron 
browed  captors  creep  nearer  and  nearer  yet. 

Their  commander  has  said  he  will  conquer,  or  sleep 
with  his  men  in  the  bed  of  the  Tennessee,  and  he  never 
swerved  from  a  resolution. 

The  intervals  of  resistance  are  longer,  but  the  shot 
and  shell  from  the  river  take  no  heed  of  their  warning, 
till  the  rebellious  flag  droops,  and  the  pitiful,  the  humili- 
ating white  banner  goes  slowly  up. 
Fort  Henry  is  conquered  ! 

The  earth  is  torn  and  furrowed  across  the  embank- 
ment, but  the  proud  bearer  of  our  emblem  leaps  over 
the  chasms  as^if  he  were  winged,  and  waves  the  II.-.], 
White  and  Blue  over  a  rebel  parapet  to  the  glad  eyes 
and  exultant  voices  of  triumphant  Federals. 

But  the  lagging  soldiery  are  not  in  time.     More  than 


THE  BO  Y  IN  £L  UE.  147 

seven  thousand  secessionists  have  escaped  at  the  plead- 
ing of  cowardly  hearts,  and  fled  wildly  across  the  coun- 
try to  Fort  Donnelson. 

The  very  earth  resisted  the  approach  of  our  brave 
fellows,  and  only  a  courageous  few  of  the  enemy,  undor 
General  Lloyd  Tighlman,  stood  by  their  guns  to  the  last, 
and  surrendered  like  men,  before  our  army  came  up. 

It  was  not  very  comforting  after  so  desperate  a  strug- 
gle through  the  mud,  to  find  only  deserted  baggage, 
uneaten  dinners,  unfinished  letters,  and  next  to  nobody. 

Ringold's  nature  was  irrepressible.  He  forgot  the 
disappointment  of  the  moment,  and  himself,  and  of- 
fered sympathy  and  prayers  to  the  dying,  and  assist- 
ance to  the  suffering,  with  a  Christian  forgetfulnesa 
of  every  division  of  purpose,  and  sentiment.  Every 
face  was  searched  for  a  familiar  feature,  and  then  cov- 
ered away  solemnly  from  the  stare  of  noon-day,  with 
a  tenderness  that  remembered  how  darkness  had  fall- 
en somewhere,  and  some  soul  would  henceforth  walk 
in  perpetual  loneliness  to  the  door  of  the  Hereafter. 
The  beautiful  softness  of  Ringold's  expression  pictured 
itself  in  many  a  heart,  with  one  swift  look  that  day,  and 
it  will  come  back  in  some  twilight  of  memory  to  those 
who  caught  its  transfigurement,  and  they  will  fancy  it 
was  like  the  angels  who  show  us  their  faces  in  our  tear- 
ful dreams. 

Colonel  Trissilian  saw  him  in  one  of  the  brief  pauses 


1 48  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

of  that  busy  afternoon,  and  with  a  reverence  which  he 
endeavored  to  cover  with  railery,  said  : 

"  You  will  be  translated  soon,  if  that  language  in 
your  eyes  can  be  relied  upon.  You  look  like  Leonardo 
de  Vinci's  St.  John.  I  don't  wish  you  to  be  detailed 
for  upper  service  just  yet,  so  take  up  earthiness  if  you 
respect  military  orders  from  your inferiors." 

Not  the  faintest  smile  touched  the  lip  which  was 
quivering  with  pity  and  human  sympathy,  but  he  re- 
plied in  a  voice  Trissilian  had  never  heard  before,  so 
like  a  woman's ! 

"  These  are  fallen  men,  and  no  more  enemies.  I  wish 
my  worthless  life  could  bring  them  back  to — to  loyal- 
ty. Of  what  use  am  I  ?  I  will  not  take  the  life  of  a 
man,  that  is — I  hope  I  will  not.  I  could  not  go  home, 
even  if  I  knew  I  had  a  home.  My  death  is  desired  by 
those  who  loved  me  once,  and  I  am  almost  hated  by  my- 
self to-day.  If  you  have  any  duties  for  me,  let  me  have 
them  now.  Idleness  will  murder  me  after  so  horrible  a 
sight." 

"  Poor  lad !  It  is  my  own  first  glimpse,  and  we'll 
try  and  bear  it  together.  We  will  follow  the  cowards 
to  Donnelson,  and  retrieve  ourselves  for  to-day's  tardi- 
ness. We  are  in  light  marching  order,  and  sleep  with 
only  cloud-covers  to-night.  The  poor  fellows  lying  here 
wont  feel  it.  I  almost  wish  we  were  Romanists,  to  pray 
for  their  souls.  Our  regiment  leads  off  in  this  division. 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  \ 49 

Don't  look  at  them  again.  I  wish  I  had  left  you  at 
Cairo,  my  boy,  but  selfish  friendship  guided  7ne." 

"  Only  friendship,  Colonel  T 

"  Only  that." 

"  I  am  glad  you  said  it.  The  words  will  drive  some 
of  to-day's  sorrows  from  my  aching  ears.  I  would  not 
have  staid  at  Cairo.  I  could  not  remain  away  from  you, 
now  that  you  are  all  I've  got  to  say  friend  to  me,"  and 
the  pitiful  look  waned,  as  if  this  was  all  of  life  in  those 
desolate  days. 

Fifteen  thousand  men  were  ordered  to  march, —  it 
was  a  weary  way,  but  not  with  distance  so  much, 
as  by  the  hard  paths  over  rocky  ledges,  and  deep  ra- 
vines, where  beds  of  last  year's  leaves,  dead,  wet 
and  slippery,  or  frozen  and  rough,  alternated  with  the 
days'  and  nights'  resting  spots  under  the  stars,  in  that 
first  brief  march  which  was  to  end  in  triumph  to  thou- 
sands, but  to  some,  graves  on  the  slopes  of  these  same 
brown  hills.  There  was  a  fierce  will  in  the  patience 
and  endurance  of  these  men,  who  for  the  first  time  slept 
upon  the  icy  ground,  uncovered.  Their  duties  had 
always  ended  in  sheltered  nights  and  warm  coffee,  but 
they  only  laughed  over  their  fate,  because  fifteen  thou- 
sand soldiers  slept  in  one  bed,  and  under  one  blue  cover. 
Jetty  gathered  leaves,  and  made  a  nest  by  the  warmest 
side  of  a  fallen  tree,  for  his  master,  though  it  was  with 
a  face  in  which  one  could  find  little  Christian  submission, 

or  heroic  fortitude.     A  thousand   fires  sent   up   their 
13* 


1 50  THE  BO  Y  IN  JSL  UE. 

ruddy  tints  into  the  trees,  and  threw  out  long  tongues 
of  warmth,  and  lapped  at  the  cold  tired  fellows,  whose 
weariness  vanished  with  its  caressing. 

The  winter  seemed  to  have  spared  its  bitterness  till 
now.  The  cold  wind  found  every  crevice  in  the  blue 
cloth  armor,  and  entered  in.  The  blankets  were  too 
heavy  by  day,  and  too  light  by  night.  Colonel  Trissilian 
began  to  feel  the  same  old  pity  for  his  men,  which  he 
hoped  was  killed  by  a  change  of  command.  The  uncom- 
plaining fellows  whose  shivering  bodies  would  not 
admit  the  plea  of  suffering  in  words,  sent  a  perpetual 
pain  to  the  officer's  heart.  The  eagle  upon  his  shoulder 
did  not  soothe  him.  He  cheered  his  men  with  merry 
counsel  and  glowing  smiles,  but  they  only  came  from 
his  lips,  so  sorry  was  he  down  in  his  heart. 

Six  days  of  patient  endurance  were  passed  in  these 
forests,  and  deep  valleys,  which  intervened  between 
themselves  and  their  next  battle-field. 

Colonel  Birges,  with  his  regiment,  belonged  to  this 
division.  They  were  western  hunters,  whose  rifle-point 
meant  death,  and  proved  its  meaning.  They  had  seen 
little  of  the  luxury  of  modern  households,  and  slept 
wherever  night  found  them,  unless  they  laid  awake  to 
pick  off  enemies  by  moonlight.  This  hunting  men  for 
game,  just  suited  their  taste,  provided  the  men  were 
enemies. 

They  were  steady  nerved,  quick  on  foot,  reliable,  and 
worshipped  their  leader. 


THE  BOY  IN  SLUE.  151 

They  belonged  to  General  Lauman's  brigade,  but 
went  wherever  they  were  needed.  They  wore  a  close 
grey  uniform  of  felt,  and  cap  of  the  same  color,  fitting  a 
closely  cropped  skull.  Their  commands  were  received 
from  a  whistle,  and  each  man  carried  one  with  which  to 
reply,  or  signal  his  fellows. 

Colonel  Birges  looked  into  the  face  of  the  Boy  in 
Blue,  and  marked  him  for  a  recruit.  There  was  a 
steady  expression  to  the  young  man's  eye,  that  fascinated 
him.  He  desired  to  win  him  to  the  ranks  of  the  sharp- 
shooting  regiment.  He  endeavored  to  charm  him  with 
the  wild  ways  of  their  warfare.  He  could  not  be  con- 
tent with  a  refusal,  and  speculated  many  an  hour  in  the 
silence  of  his  blanket  under  the  stars,  upon  the  marvelous 
power  of  Ringold's  manner,  and  his  strange  aversion  to 
participation  in  the  contest.  He  knew  it  was  not  cowardice, 
and  so  the  mystery  bewildered  him.  He  determined 
to  captivate  him,  and  enjoy  the  delight  of  seeing  a  rebel 
brought  down  by  the  young  Tennesseean's  aim. 

When  they  rested,  or  before  the  march  in  the  morn- 
ing, Colonel  Birges  coaxed  Ringold  to  practice  with  a 
rifle,  and  the  lad  consented,  because  he  understood  that 
his  secluded  habits  and  silent  ways,  were  not  as  pleasing 
to  Western  tastes,  as  to  the  less  demonstrative,  and  less 
communicative  New  Englanders. 

Colonel  Birges  was  a  sympathetic  man,  though  he 
would  have  resented  such  an  imputation.  He  was 
tender  under  the  coating  of  his  profession,  and  when  his 


152  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

friendship  grew,  it  went  downward  to  permanent  root 
first,  and  then  rose  into  acts  which  were  always  noble, 
and  if  the  opportunity  came,  they  were  god-like.  His 
discipline  was  perfect,  but  it  needed  no  severity.  The 
graceful  manners  and  elegant  expressions  of  Ringold, 
appealed  to  the  latent  refinement  of  his  own  soul. 

Before  the  coming  battle  broke  forth,  he  watched 
Ringold  with  as  much  solicitude  as  if  he  had  been  his 
own  brother,  and  too  tender  for  the  field,  but  the  march 
ended,  and  they  were  in  safety. 

Fort  Donnelson,  which  is  surrounded  by  hills,  has 
earth-works  skirting  the  inner  borders.  Trees  had  been 
felled  to  form  abatis,  and  the  lithe  limbs  interwoven 
thickly  together. 

There  was  a  long  line  of  field  works,  protected  on  the 
outer  line  by  rifle-pits,  lying  upon  the  crests  of  the  hills. 
It  is  very  steep  on  the  exposed  side,  and  beyond  this 
from  the  fort,  there  is  another  crest  not  so  high  as  the 
former. 

There  are  trenches  protected  by  heaped  logs  banked 
with  earth,  and  impenetrable  to  bullets.  This  slope  is 
almost  impassible. 

The  ground  rolls,  as  if  it  had  been  curved  into  this 
succession  of  knolls  by  the  slow  upheaval  of  an  earth- 
quake. There  is  no  place  for  a  battalion  drill  for  many 
miles. 

It  was  just  afternoon  of  the  twelfth  of  February, 
that  our  cavalry  came  in  sight  of  the  rebel  fortifications. 


TEE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  \  53 

Not  an  enemy  was  found  outside,  but  swarms  of  them 
made  the  interior  of  the  intrenchments  look  like  masses 
of  dark  swaying  earth.  They  were  on  the  watch  for  a 
surprise.  Fort  Henry  delegates  warned  them.  They 
carried  force  in  their  numbers,  if  not  in  their  capabili- 
ties of  defence. 

Many  of  our  men  left  their  bivouac  on  the  next 
sunny  morning  with  the  soft  warmth  of  the  sky  prom- 
ising  future  comfort,  who  were  to  sleep  under  a  gather- 
ing shroud  of  ice  at  night,  and  waken  at  the  reveille 
never  anymore.  The  soft  dawn  deluded  the  poor  fel- 
lows, and  they  cast  aside  their  outer  garments  for  the 
fray,  and  too  many  did  not  need  them  again.  Many 
more,  nearly  perished  before  the  dawn  of  the  second 
day's  fighting. 

Before  the  purple  of  the  morning  had  changed  to  the 
golden  glory  of  the  sun's  coming,  the  Fort  sent  out  jets 
of  blaze,  then  a  tower  of  smoke  rose  up  into  the  sky, 
and  through  it  a  horrible  whirr  and  hissing,  and  a 
bombshell  plumps  itself  into  the  camp  fire  of  Colonel 
Oglesby's  brigade.  This  was  the  gauntlet  of  the  enemy, 
and  every  man  sprang  to  the  challenge.  This  division 
held  the  leading  position,  and  nearest  the  crest  of  the 
enemy's  surroundings. 

From  a  hill  a  half  a  mile  away,  we  answered  them 
with  our  heavy-voiced  guns.  Furiously  the  argument 
was  carried  on,  and  both  artillery  men  pointed  their 
batteries  with  marvelous  skill.  While  Major  Cavender 


1 54  THE  BOY  IN  J1L UK 

Avas  sighting  his  gun,  a  shell  fell  by  his  side,  but  he  did 
not  lift  his  eye,  and  his  own  messenger  touched  the  spot 
whence  his  iron  visitor  came.  Four  shells  burst  above 
and  beside  him,  before  he  would  move  his  piece.  Then, 
as  if  angered  at  being  disturbed,  his  enthusiasm  was  re- 
doubled. 

The  rebels  fire  at  random  into  the  thickets,  but  our 
men  pick  them  off  like  birds  upon  leafless  trees,  under 
a  sharp  hunter's  fire. 

Now  and  then  a  man  falls  within  our  lines.  Poor 
fellows !  they  have  not  known  the  meaning  of  war  be- 
fore, but  they  do  not  stop  to  comprehend  all  that  it  is. 
That  will  come  to  them  sometime  on  guard,  when  by  a 
lonely  fire  during  a  dreary  night.  They  do  not  stop  to 
think  "good-bye"  to  the  children  waiting  in  quiet 
homes,  and  wives  praying  by  secret  altars.  Their  flag 
means  everything  now.  God,  country,  friends,  and 
hearthstones. 

Closer  and  closer !  Commanders  did  not  then  know 
their  men,  nor  how  like  the  veterans  at  Quatre  Bras 
they  could  face  without  flinching,  the  fire  of  the  foe. 
The  old  guard  of  Waterloo  could  have  been  no  steadier 
than  the  Federals  who  fought  and  fell  at  Donnelson. 

Colonel  Birges'  men  crept  up  in  front  of  the  rebel 
lines.  Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  trenches  they  crawl, 
and  every  whirring  pellet  of  lead  is  a  doom  to  some 
one  behind  the  breastworks. 


TEE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  \  55 

The  rebels  are  soon  silent.  It  is  sure  death  to  lift  a 
musket  over  their  crest. 

A  fearful  night  came  down  upon  them.  Ringold, 
who  had  been  all  day  at  General  Grant's  headquarters 
writing  dispatches  under  dictation,  went  out  into  the 
storm,  against  the  General's  wishes,  to  share  the  fate  of 
the  soldiers.  No  food  but  hard  bread  and  water 
to-night,  but  he  did  not  mind  it,  for  himself. 

Jetty  was  coaxed  to  sleep  between  two  fallen  oaks, 
while  the  Aid  went  off  through  the  trees,  looking  into 
the  faces  of  the  dead,  and  finding  some  to  whom  life 
might  be  brought  back  with  warmth  and  care. 

Moanings  here  and  there  between  the  swaying  of  the 
leafless  boughs  and  the  howling  of  the  fierce  storm,  rose 
up  to  greet  his  approach. 

He  could  give  little  assistance  alone. 

Jetty  was  roused  from  his  early  slumbers,  and  his 
warm  sympathy  fully  awakened  him  after  the  first 
shake.  Colonel  Trissilian  and  these  two,  traversed  the 
wooded  fields  all  the  night  through,  carrying  some  to 
the  improvised  hospitals,  laying  some  in  an  easy  pos- 
ture to  die,  and  staunching  the  blood,  and  staying  the 
life  of  others.  It  was  when  the  dark  was  deepest,  and 
the  storm  wailed  wildest,  that  Ringold's  foot  touched  a 
fallen  man,  lying  upon  the  slippery  leaves,  with  his  blood 
coloring  the  snow  as  it  fell. 

Ringold  stooped  to  touch  his  heart,  and  the  flutter  was 
perceptible,  but  so  faint ! 


1 56  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  US. 

"  Can  you  speak,  my  poor  fellow  ?" 

"  Ay,  a  little." 

"  Can  you  hold  on  to  life  till  I  bring  a  stretcher  to 
carry  you  to  shelter  ?" 

"  No,  my  friend,  I  do  not  wish  to  be  stirred  now  that 
the  bitterness  has  passed,  and  the  pain  gone.  I  would 
have  chosen  to  live  till  we  conquered,  but  it  is  no  mat- 
ter." 

"  Have  you  any  wish  that  a  friend  could  see  granted  ? 
If  you  have,  youinay  trust  me.  I  will  do  anything  that 
a  poor  exile  of  this  wretched  state  can,  for  you." 

"  Of  this  state  ?  so  am  I,"  here  he  brightened  a  little, 
and  his  words  were  not  so  far  apart.  "  I  came  from 
among  the  hills.  I  have  a  mother  there,  and  she  loved 
me  till  this  hateful  Rebellion  parted  us.  She'll  love  me 
when  I  am  dead.  My  father  never  cared  for  me,  because 
I  loved  pictures  too  well.  There  is  one  in  my  bosom. 
Don't  let  any  one  take  it  from  me.  It  will  make  my 
soldier's  grave  holy.  My  mother's  name  is  Mrs.  Allan 
Ruyter  of  Chattanooga,  can — you — remember  ?  I — am 
— going.  God — bless — her  ?" 

Ringold  placed  his  handkerchief  tenderly  over  the 
dead  soldier's  face,  and  sat  beside  him  and  wept  the 
bitterest  tears  of  his  life.  This  was  once  his  friend. 
One  of  the  sweetest  souls  had  gone  back  to  heaven,  that 
had  ever  been  shut  in  a  house  of  clay. 

More  like  an  exalted  woman  ho,  seemed  to  Ringold's 
memory,  than  a  man  of  a  score  and  a  half  of  years. 


THE  EOT  IN  BL  US.  1 57 

Loving  the  beautiful  with  the  fervor  of  a  Claude  Lo- 
raine,  young  Buyter  could  not  "be  a  coarse  strong  man 
to  dabble  in  the  filth  of  political  ambition.  So  his  fath- 
er hated  him. 

After  an  hour's  deep  sobbing  had  wearied,  and  then 
rested  the  burdened  heart  of  the  watcher,  he  rose  and 
parted  the  soldierly  vestments  of  the  dead,  and  rever- 
ently lifted  the  picture  from  the  still  heart,  hoping  that 
the  tidings  of  so  much  devotion  would  soften  the  grief 
of  some  one  heart-broken.  He  opened  the  guarded  case 
with  its  .golden  clasps,  and  it  was  a  painted  miniature  of 
Remy  St.  Remy  ? 

****** 

A  half  hour  afterward  Ringold  raised  the  handker- 
chief, and  kissed  the  smooth  beautiful  forehead,  and 
folded  the  raiment  close  over  the  still  bosom. 

It  was  morning. 

Before  mid-day  this  tired  body,  wrapt  in  a  blanket, 
was  laid  in  a  grave  alone,  away  from  his  fallen  comrades 
because  he  had  been  alone  in  life,  and — because — because 
the  exile  of  East  Tennessee  and  Jetty  dug  the  grave  in 
the  frosty  air  of  that  unfriendly  time,  and  strewed 
leaves  over  the  dead,  before  they  cast  in  the  earth  which 
was  to  enfold  him  always. 

Sometime  when  Peace  shall  sit  upon  those  gpeen  hills, 
and  happiness  comes  back  to  Tennessee,  the  children 
will  wonder  why  the  verdure  is  greener,  and  the  grass 

longer  and  silkier  about  that  little  spot,  than  upon  other 
14 


1 58  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  VE. 

sunny  places  on  those  fair  slopes,  but  there  will  be  no 
sculptured  sentence  to  tell  them,  nor  any  voice  to  repeat 
the  story  of  a  man  who  lived,  and  was  misunderstood, 
loved  and  was  unhappy,  fought  for  his  country's  liberty 
and  was  glorified  by  the  upper  watchers,  but  unrecord- 
ed and  uncrowned  among  the  heroes  of  the  grand  to- 
day. 

Mrs.  Ruyter  is  childless  now,  heaven  having  exhaled 
the  spirits  of  her  children,  and  her  husband  lies  in  a 
Northern  Prison,  a  traitor  to  his  country. 

She  is  not  crushed.  Not  a  tear  touched  h|r  cheek 
when  the  message  of  Ringold  reached  her  long  afterward. 
She  is  as  cruel  as  a  woman's  heart  can  be,  when  turned 
to  gall,  a  fanatic  in  the  cause  of  Southern  Rights,  as 
she  misnames  her  creed.  She  reviles  all  good  things 
that  do  not  conspire  to  add  glory  to  rebellious  arms, 
and  hails  as  a  God-send,  every  momentary  success  of 
their  wicked  plans. 

This  day  each  army  buried  its  dead,  and  except  that 
now  and  then  there  was  heard  the  whizz  of  an  unerring 
ball  sent  fromBirges'  men,  silence  reigned.  Half  frozen, 
hungry  men,  jaded  by  superhuman  exertion,  and  wea- 
ried with  sleeplessness  as  well,  maintain  their  position, 
but  look  anxiously  down  the  Cumberland.  Food  for 
the  fighting  men,  and  comforts  for  the  mangled,  had 
not  yet  come. 

Only  one  gun-boat  rocked  in  the  stream.  TheCaron- 
delet  was  waiting  for  her  companions. 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  HE.  \  59 

By  and  by  a  flash,  a  white  column  of  smoke  went  up 
into  the  sky,  and  a  shell  lay  in  the  bosom  of  Fort  Don- 
nelson. 

There  were  thousands  of  bosoms  that  glowed  with 
gladness,  and  answered  with  shout  after  shout  of  joy,  at 
this  signal  of  coming  help  and  coming  food  to  the  fam- 
ished. A  renewed  life  to  them  was  this  tossing  of  a 
shell — but  to  the  enemy — ah,  who  can  understand  all 
that  it  dealt  to  them  ? 

In  mid-afternoon  the  ironrbound  gun-boats,  four  in 
number,  with  their  three  attendants,  approached  the 
fort.  A  curve  in  the  Cumberland  brought  them  under 
a  raking  fire  from  the  famous  gunners  in  the  fort. 

The  river  was  too  far  below  the  ramparts  for  us  to 
throw  shell  within,  and  only  the  batteries  close  upon 
shore  felt  the  steady  fire  from  our  guns.  They  were 
soon  silenced. 

Havoc,  the  bloodiest  that  these  combatants  had  ever 
witnessed,  followed  the  pathway  of  the  shot  and  shell. 
Closer,  closer  came  the  iron  faces  of  the  steamers,  but 
above  them,  pointing  like  the  finger  of  Fate,  from  the 
hill,  were  the  waiting  Columbiads,  with  their  mouths 
filled  with  peremptory  messages. 

The  brave  commander,  forgetting  his  wound,  seized 
the  helm  of  his  broken  flag-ship,  held  the  steamer  with 
Roman  heroism,  and  tried  to  keep  her  to  the  stream, 
but  a  ball  wrenched  this  last  hope  away.  Just  five 
minutes  more,  and  the  eight  gun  battery  would  have  been 


1  GO  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  US. 

stilled,  and  the  trenches  held  not  an  enemy.  But  these 
few  minutes  !  The  signal  for  retreat  was  raised  by  the 
flag-ship,  because  only  the  Louisville  would  answer  the 
pilot's  will. 

One  hour's  contest,  and  so  much  lost !  These  dis- 
abled gun-boats,  and  fifty-four  men,  either  dead  or 
wounded  of  our  brave  follows  ! 

How  their  Christian  commander  sorrowed  for  the 
dead,  and  comforted  the  living,  can  never  be  written. 
He  has  found  them  now,  and  we  grieve  because  he  went 
so  soon. 

General  Grant  must  entrench  himself,  and  wait  for 
other  water-help  to  come.  He  could  starve  the  enemy, 
if  he  could  not  shell  them  out  of  their  position.  It  would 
be  a  bloodless  victory. 

The  leaders  in  the  fort  understood  this  plan  of  subju- 
gation, and  a  combination  of  attacks  to  drive  them 
back,  and  obtain  a  victory,  or  escape  with  whatever 
they  could  of  their  army,  was  decided  upon. 

General  Johnson  led  the  column,  and  a  terrible  day 
began.  The  snow  was  ground  under  the  heels  of  frantic 
men,  maddened  by  the  flood  that  its  white  gleams 
showed  them,  and  which  the  frozen  earth  would  not 
drink. 

Officers  fell  like  lopped  limbs  from  before  pruning 
knives,  but  the  unharmed  are  cool  and  dauntless.  The 
slaughter  is  sickening,  but  they  do  not  fear  or  faint. 

Retreating  and  advancing  alternately,  the  Federals 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  161 

fighting  for  their  flag,  and  the  Rebel  soldiery  for 
pillage,  stopping  now  and  then  to  empty  the  pockets 
of  the  wounded,  or  bear  off  the  garments  of  the  dead,  the 
day  wanes. 

General  Pillow  writes  a  dispatch  for  Nashville : 

"  On  the  honor  of  a  soldier,  the  day  is  ours." 

On  the  honor  of  a  rebel  soldier  !  They  should  have 
known  by  the  name,  that  it  was  untrue. 

Flushed  with  a  promise  of  victory  they  cease  to  be 
cautious. 

Shell  and  scharpenelle,  grape  and  cannister  mow  down 
the  enemy.  They  are  disheartened — they  cannot  be 
rallied. 

General  Wallace  tells  his  men  they  may,  if  they 
choose,  storm  the  breast-works,  and  they  do  choose.  Fir- 
ing and  falling,  firing  and  falling,  they  approach  the 
enclosure.  Cheering  and  fighting,  they  drive  the 
enemy  back,  and  stand  in  their  morning  tracks. 

Colonel  Birges  and  his  men  are  distributed  where 
they  can  deal  death  at  their  will.  The  lowering  sun 
throws  his  beams  into  the  enemies'  faces,  blinding  them, 
but  giving  out-look  to  our  advancing  columns. 

Kingold  has  grown  feverish  with  the  night's  remem- 
brance, and  wearied  with  the  day's  toil,  among  the 
crushed  and  writhing  victims  in  the  hospitals,  and  now 
with  a  rebel  cloak  and  cap  left  in  an  abandoned  trunk 
at  Fort  Henry,  and  worn  at  Colonel  Birges'  request, 
he  stands  beside  this  renowned  rifleman.  The  foe,  if  they 
14* 


1 G2  THE  BOY  IN BL UE. 

saw  him  at  all,  think  him  a  confederate  prisoner  of  rank, 
and  turn  their  aim  away. 

Shot  after  shot  sped  from  the  slim  steel  instrument, 
and  Ringold  panted  at  every  whir  of  a  bullet  as  is  if  it 
had  been  aimed  at  himself. 

Once  when  a  gallant  confederate  officer  was  cheering 
his  men,  in  front  of  our  field  muskets,  Colonel  Dirges 
sighted  him,  and  his  finger  rested  a  moment  for  a  surer 
aim,  when  the  quick  hand  of  Ringold  turned  the  rifle, 
and  the  bullet  whizzed  into  space.  Colonel  Birges  was  not 
a  man  to  accept  such  an  interference  with  patience. 
Had  it  been  one  of  his  own  men,  the  nexf;  ball  would 
have  let  his  life  out,  but  his  sharp  questioning  eyes  met 
such  a  look  in  the  young  face,  such  an  appeal,  not  for 
mercy  to  himself,  but  to  the  rebel,  that  the  anger  died 
out  of  the  hard  man's  eyes,  and  he  said  with  a  softer 
tone  than  one  often  hears  on  the  battle  field  : — 

"  What  was  it,  my  boy  ?" 

"  That  man  was  once — my — my — pardon  me,  Colonel, 
I  cannot  speak  it, — his  name  is  Carry  1  Farnam." 

"  Never  mind.  If  he  was  your  friend  once,  he  isn't 
now,  but  I'll  spare  him  though  my  men  will  take  him 
off  that  horse  if  they  can.  I  respect  your  remembrance 
of  friendship.  Thank  God  I  have  nobody  among  the 
horde,  or  it  would  go  hard  to  aim  at  a  man  I  had  liked 
once.  You  look  too  white  to  stay  here  any  longer.  Go 
to  headquarters,  and  I'll  see  you  by  and  bye,  if  I  don't 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL UK  1 63 

get  my  orders  to  go  up  yonder  with  any  of  the  other 
poor  fellows." 

Ringold  was  not  superstitious,  at  least  not  more  so 
than  all  imaginative  people  are,  but  he  remembered  in 
this  brief  moment,  Apel's  Gespensturbuch,  and  fancied 
Colonel  Birses'  a  Freischutz.  Of  the  seventh  ball  in  the 

O 

rifle,  he  might  have  spared  himself  anxiety.  The  Evil 
Spirit  would  not  have  taken  this  arch  rebel,  Carryl 
Farnam,  because  his  stay  upon  the  earth  prospered  the 
plans  of  the  wicked. 

Lauman's  brigade  approaches  the  enemy's  works. 
Stern  was  every  face,  and  steady  every  hand.  Their 
fierce  energy  is  suppressed,  but  their  tread  is  onward. 
Shot  nor  shell  disturbs  a  man  that  is  untouched.  Not 
a  look  goes  back  to  the  fallen  then.  General  Smith 
with  his  head  bared  to  the  sunset,  and  his  cap  on  the 
point  of  his  sword,  cheers  the  soldiery,  and  their  hearts 
throb  a  reply  to  every  sound  of  his  voice. 

Like  an  avalanche  they  move  onward,  then  melt  into 
a  leaping  torrent  and  surge  over  the  field,  fighting  with 
bayonets  fixed,  and  the  memory  of  fallen  brothers  in 
that  day's  fray,  maddening  them  to  deeds  of  horror. 
They  leap  upon  the  crested  hill  and  wave  their  triumph- 
ant banner  in  defiance  over  their  retreating  enemies. 

They  laugh,  cry,  shout  and  sing.  They  know  noth- 
ing but  victory,  victory ! 

That  night,  sleep  was  a  blessed  angel.  Many  a  heart 
would  have  wailed  over  earthly  losses,  but  for  this  balm 


1 64  THE  BOY  IN BL UK 

to  the  bereaved.  It  held  their  eyes  from  seeming  to  see 
the  morrow.  The  snow  was  their  bed,  and  the  trenches 
of  the  enemy  their  shelter,  but  they  were  rested  with 
success,  and  the  morning  found  them  hungry,  but  ready 
and  eager  to  complete  the  capture.  The  roaring  of  the 
enemy's  immense  guns  had  not  wakened  them.  Balls 
had  sped  through  the  darkness,  and  silence  of  the  night, 
and  many  of  our  glorious  fellows  found  themselves  in 
another  world  when  they  opened  their  soul's  eyes  in 
the  morning. 

The  bugle  blast  was  the  only  sound  that  could  pene- 
trate the  wearied  enclosures  of  their  sleeping  selves. 

Through  the  dimness  of  that  early  day,  upon  the  foe's 
battlements  there  fluttered  a  white  pennant  of  parley — 
that  prophet  of  defeat.  Over  the  embankment,  and 
down  the  slope  it  quivered,  flapping  the  frosty  air  with 
its  pallid  interpretations. 

A  messenger  to  General  Grant  was  protected  by  its 
white  wing. 

An  officer  hastened  with  the  letter  to  his  commander. 
It  asked  for  a  suspension  of  hostilities  till  midday,  and 
an  appointment  of  commissioners  to  agree  upon  terms 
of  capitulation. 

This  was  the  moment  of  rechristening,  to  the  intrepid 
Grant. 

"  No  terms  other  than  immediate,  and  unconditional 
surrender.  I  propose  to  move  upon  your  works  imme- 
diately." 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL  HE.  \ 65 

This  was  the  chronicled  reply  of  the  man  whose  ini- 
tials came  to  remind  us  of  his  heroism  on  that  bitter 
cold  morning. 

General  Buckner  questioned  Grant's  chivalry,  but 
yielded. 

This  rebel,  was  a  man  of  contradictory  characteristics. 
He  would  not  desert  his  followers,  when  that  dastardly 
thief  Floyd,  and  Pillow,  his  petty  companion  in  cow- 
ardice, sneaked  off  from  his  vanquished  forces  to  the 
safety  of  a  steamer,  bearing  away  curses  from  thou- 
sands of  terrified  men  behind  them.  No,  General  Buck- 
ner was  not  bad  enough  for  that,  but  his  history  reveals 
something,  that  forces  one  to  wonder  why  he  should 
have  accused  his  conqueror  of  a  lack  of  generosity. 

With  the  coming  of  the  sun,  the  frost  went  away,  and 
the  warmth  came  back  to  the  numb  limbs  of  the  sol- 
diery, and  to  the  throats  of  the  wild  birds.  They  chanted 
their  Sabbath  hymns  in  the  tree  tops,  and  our  army 
syllabled  a  response,  when  they  saw  the  white  pennant 
had  gone  back  and  planted  itself  upon  the  breastworks 
of  Donnelson.  The  music  of  all  the  instruments  in  that 
vast  collection,  played  orchestral  accompaniments  to 
this  Sabbath  song  of  victory,  this  musical  lyric  of 
Liberty.  Every  banner  fluttered  in  the  breeze.  Every 
bayonet  glittered  in  the  sunshine,  every  foot-fall  was 
firm,  and  every  motion  was  a  manifestation  of  pride. 
From  the  Cumberland's  silver  current,  and  from  the 
Tennesseean  hills,  column  after  column  of  exultant  sol- 


1 66  THE  BO  Y  IN  £L  UE, 

diery  poured  into  the  Fort.  Sailors,  defeated  two  days 
ago,  swept  in  from  the  battered  boats,  and  infantry, 
driven  back  but  yesterday,  advanced,  and  mingled  their 
voices  in  one  vast  swell  of  triumph.  Columbiads 
without  ball,  and  artillery  without  shot,  swelled  the 
chorus  of  success,  and  hailed  the  entry  of  the  dear  old 
Flag  to  its  own  home. 

The  wretched  forgot  their  misery,  the  mangled  forgot 
their  pain,  the  hungry  forgot  their  longing  for  food — 
nothing  was  remembered  but  success. 

Deep  and  bitter  were  the  rebel  curses  sent  after  their 
chieftain  deserters.  Threats  of  future  vengeance  was 
upon  many  a  lip,  and  deeper  yet  in  many  a  haggard 
face.  Ringold  had  not  left  the  side  of  the  cot  upon 
which  Colonel  Trissilian  lay  all  that  night  with  a  shat- 
tered limb.  The  surgeon  had  arranged  the  splintered 
bones,  and  Ringold  soothed  the  impatient  sufferer  dur- 
ing the  long,  long  hours.  Food  touched  by  his  deft 
hands  seemed  to  possess  a  wonderful  relish,  and  the 
stroke  of  the  Exile's  fingers  over  the  rumpled  curls  of 
the  colonel's  aching  head  brought  ease,  and  pleasant 
dreams  of  peace. 

The  Sabbath  had  come,  and  the  white  flag  had  flut- 
tered, and  the  wild  cheers  had  surged  through  the  still- 
ness of  the  beautiful  dawn,  but  the  invalid  felt  like  a 
chained  man.  It  is  heroic  to  brave  a  battle,  but  it  is 
God  like  to  wait  in  patience.  Colonel  Trissilian  was 
not  God-like.  He  would  have  swung  his  bandaged 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  167 

]imb  over  his  saddle,  and  swelled  the  moving  mass  that 
pressed  within  that  vast  area  of  breastworks, — that  two 
miles  of  wall,  and  mounted  the  embrasures  through  which 
death  had  been  meeted  out  to  hundreds  of  Patriots,  and 
worse  than  death,  to  many  more. 

How  bravely  that  man  had  fought,  how  wordless 
was  his  suffering,  but  to  lie  quietly  in  the  distance, 
while  the  men  who  he  had  led  undaunted  to  the  charge, 
were  filing  forth  to  meet  their  reward,  was  too  much  ! 

The  day  grew  to  high  noon,  and  still  the  pale  patient 
Boy  in  Blue,  sat  by  his  side,  or  brought  messages  of 
the  march,  as  he  could  see  it  from  the  nearest  look-out. 

The  sun  began  to  descend  toward  the  hills.  The 
colonel  caught  a  clear  look  into  Ringold's  eyes,  and 
what  he  saw  there,  he  did  not  shape  in  words,  but  his 
restless  tongue  was  still,  and  his  voice  fell  to  a  tone  of 
submission. 

"  Wont  you  rest  a  little,  Ringold,  you  look  so  worn  ? 
I've  been  a  brute,  of  course  I  have.  I  know  how  to  be 
one  better  than  any  one  in  this  army.  Please  lie  down 
and  sleep,  I  don't  need  any  care.  That  budget  of  black, 
hasn't  stirred  from  his  posture  for  twelve  hours,  poor 
negro  !  Rouse  him  if  you  can,  and  drop  off,  just  to 
please  me,  and  I'll  be  as  docile  as  a  poked  pig  when  you 
come  back." 

"  I'd  rather  go  over  and  see  If  there  are  any  Tennes- 
see boys  who  are  penitent,  or  need  any  thing  I  can 
furnish  them,  if  you  wont  miss  me  too  much." 


1 68     '  THE  EOT  IN  BL UE. 

So  Jetty  was  punched,  and  screamed  at,  and  rumpled, 
till  the  white  of  his  eyes  dawned  over  his  face,  and  he 
roused  himself  to  breakfast  and  duty. 

Ringold  had  been  cook,  and  nurse,  but  was  willing  to 
alternate  now. 

Victory,  with  a  beseeching  whinny,  called  to  his  mas- 
ter, as  if  to  be  grateful  that  there  was  food  for  him,  at 
last. 

He  seemed  to  feel  the  indignity  of  rough  sides,  and 
the  want  of  personal  cleanliness,  but  there  was  no  time 
for  the  luxuries.  A  stroke  of  affection  was  given,  and 
then  a  gallop  over  the  furrowed  abatis,  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  intrenchments  of  Fort  Donnelson. 

It  was  a  pitiful  sight. 

Weaned,  hungry  men,  disappointed,  but  stern,  facing 
a  fate  from  which  they  would  not  turn,  disarmed,  sub- 
jugated in  spirit,  more  by  the  disgraceful  conduct  of 
their  leaders,  than  by  their  own  defeat,  lay  sullenly  in 
the  sun. 

Few  were  the  questions  Ringold  asked,  and  fewer 
were  the  answers.  Not  a  face  that  he  ever  saw  before 
looked  into  his.  A  dark  glazed  pair  of  eyes  were  turn- 
ed to  the  sky  from  a  trunkless  head  lying  in  a  pool  of 
blood.  Across  the  cheek  there  was  a  broad  line  of  pur- 
pie — a  birth-mark  upon  a  Chickamauga  lad.  Ringold 
remembered  it,  and  knew  that  it  belonged  to  an  officer 
of  lower  rank,  but  to  a  high  family.  What  an  end  to 
treason  ! 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  169 

He  was  in  time  to  see  the  officers  deliver  their  arms 
to  the  Federal  authorities,  a  demand  not  often  made, 
but  assassination  already  perpetrated,  made  it  a  neces- 
sity. It  was  the  first  pleasurable  sensation  this  conflict 
had  produced  in  the  heart  'of  Ringold.  He  felt  that  he 
was  getting  hard.  He  was  pleased  at  this  evidence  of 
his  fitness  for  military  life.  To  be  glad  at  even  the  dis- 
comfiture of  an  enemy,  was  significant.  It  seemed  a 
proof  that  he  was  not  dulled  to  everything.  Even  these 
enemies  had  sometimes  been  guests  at  his  old  home, 
and  broken  bread  under  the  pleasant  roof-tree  that  had 
faded  in  cannon  smoke,  or  drifted  away  in  the  distance 
of  time  and  change.  His  thoughts  were  winged,  and 
his  native  hills  and  valleys  were  before  his  gaze.  He 
saw  the  old  times,  with  its  kindliness  of  speech,  and  felt 
the  genial  grasp  of  warm  hands.  These  were  hospitali- 
ties that  meant  to  be  expressions  of  human  love,  and 
promises  of  perpetual  regard.  Then  his  thoughts  came 
back  to  the  disarmed,  humiliated  men,  whose  faces  wore 
the  handwriting  of  base  passions.  May-be  this -terrible 
lettering  will  be  worn  away  when  better  days  have  gone 
over  them. 

Pray  God  all  ye  Christian  women  who  wait,  while 
manhood  works,  Pray ! 

Ringold  bent  his  head,  and  his  lips  moved,  but  he 
spoke  nothing.  The  spirit  of  Love  and  Peace  heard 
him,  and  will  answer  in  Heaven's  good  time. 

He  had  seen  enough.  He  turned  down  by  the  river 
15 


1 70  THE  BOY  IN  BL UK 

and  followed  the  paths  of  the  enfilading  balls  from  the 
gun  boats  which  had  cut  away  the  batteries,  and  the 
stones  were  red  with  blood.  Pools  of  red  had  sunken 
in  the  indentations  of  fleeing  feet,  and  purpled  in  that 
Sabbath's  sun. 

Victory  within  Fort  Donnelson,  thank  God  ! 

He  rode  back  by  the  grave  of  Ruyter,  and  there  was 
no  foot-print  on  the  fresh  earth.  Angels  had  turned  the 
turmoil  away  from  this  sacred  resting-place. 

He  was  soothed  with  this  belief,  and  when  his  blank- 
et, wrapped  closer  by  the  loving  but  clumsy  hands  of 
Jetty,  was  about  him,  he  dreamed  of  green  hills  where 
there  were  no  crimson  spots,  and  the  New  England 
lawn,  and  the  surf,  and  the  dear  father,  tender  and  man- 
ly as  he  remembered  him  in  the  long  ago. 

Then  the  day  came  with  its  wretched  pictures  to  drown 
the  fancies  of  the  night.  Bandages  for  the  bruised 
slipped  through  the  cunning  fingers  of  Ringold,  and  the 
surgeons  said  he  was  made  to  be  the  wounded  man's 
friend  and  helper. 

Tender  of  touch,  and  light  but  firm  of  tread,  he  went 
from  the  man  whose  hands  were  hewn  away  and  needed 
food,  or  a  pen's  service,  to  where  feet  were  swept  off  by 
the  rush  of  a  ball,  and  required  comfort  that  could  not 
be  reached. 

Then  a  soft  word  was  wanted  when  the  pain  was  too 
hard  to  bear  alone,  and  Ringold's  sympathy  soothed 
the  men  to  endurance.  Sometimes  the  nights  were  spent 


THE  EOT  IN  BL HE.  171 

without  sleep,  and  sometimes  the  days  too,  without 
rest,  but  the  boy  never  dropped  a  moan,  or  a  sigh. 
Trissilian  only  lent  him  to  other  patients.  He  kept 
him  closest  to  himself, 


172  THE  £0  Y  AV  J1L  UK 


CHAPTER  X. 

AFTER      THE      STORM. 

"  It  is  not  the  wind 

That  is  lifting  it  now  ;  and  it  is  not  the  wind 
That  moulded  this  vision.'' 

"While  he  thus  spoke,  a  doubtful  tumultuous  joy 
Chased  its  fleeting  effects  o'er  the  face  of  the  boy, 
As  when  some  stormy  moon,  in  a  long  cloud  confined. 
Struggles  outward  through  shadows,  the  varying  wind 
•     Alternates,  and  bursts  self-surprised  from  her  prison, 
So  that  slow  joy  grew  clear  in  his  face." 

THE  days  followed  in  their  slow  •  course,  and  they 
were  back  in  Cairo.  The  colonel  was  impatient,  as 
almost  all  thoroughly  healthy  men  are,  when  accident 
lays  them  aside.  Sometimes  he  was  patient  and 
tender,  and  sometimes  he  was  imperious  and  unreason- 
able, but  either  mood  was  the  same  to  his  faithful 
friend. 

Jetty  was  goodness  itself,  though  he  did  sometimes 
feel  insulted,  and  show  indignation  in  the  white  corners 
of  his  eyes,  when  he  was  petulantly  addressed  as  "  you 
unmitigated  nigger." 

To  be  sure,  he  didn't  mind  "nigger,"  but  "unmiti- 
gated," was  a  big  word,  and  he  fancied  it  meant  some- 
thing very  bad. 

One  evening,  when  the  hot  copper  sun  had  gone  from 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  1 73 

the  sky,  and  his  saffron  robe  had  trailed  close  to  the 
edge  of  the  horizon,  and  there  was  but  the  glimmer  of  a 
yellow  twilight  left  about  Colonel  Trissilian  and  Ringold, 
a  mood  of  rare  confidence  came  upon  the  convalescent 
as  it  sometimes  comes  to  us  all,  through  the  day's 
dying. 

He  showed  Ringold  the  relics  of  his  infancy,  which 
had  never  been  separated  from  him.  A  pretty  shoe, 
once,  but  worn  and  old  now  with  the  touches  of  unan- 
swered and  mysterious  affection,  and  one  thing  more, 
and  only  one,  that  was  spared  to  him  by  the  pitiless 
wreck  upon  the  bleak  New  Jersey  shore. 

This  was  a  pale  golden-tinted  translucent  cross  of 
Cairngorm. 

The  colonel  told  his  pitiful  story  of  orphanage  and 
suffering,  and  when  he  waited  for  an  expression  of 
sympathy,  there  was  only  utter  silence.  He  waited  till 
surprise  and  disappointment  changed  to  a  feeling  of 
anxiety.  He  used  his  crutch  now,  and  he  rose  and  ap- 
proached his  listener,  and,  with  unusual  familiarity,  laid 
his  hand  upon  Ringold's  shoulder.  It  quivered  with  a 
strong  muscular  contraction  a  moment  under  his  touch, 
and  the  next,  the  Boy  in  Blue  lay  upon  the  hospital 
floor.  No  surgeon  was  near,  nor  was  any  needed.  Life 
came  back  speedily.  A  quick  current  of  air,  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  it  was  over. 

The  surgeon  returning  in  time  to  hear  the  excited 

statement  of  Colonel  Trissilian,  only  answered  :     "  Too 
15* 


1 74  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

little  out-door  life — too  much  anxiety  about  something, 
and  a  sudden  relaxation  of  the  mind,  it  may  be.  What 
were  you  saying,  colonel  ?" 

"  O,  nothing  to  him  !  Nothing  to  him,  I  assure  you. 
You  are  mistaken  in  your  theory." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  the  centre  of  this  small  excite- 
ment. "  I  was  only  faint  a  little.  It  is  over  now,  and 
I  beg  you  will  not  give  it  another  thought.  The  col- 
onel was  relating  an  exciting  story,  and  the  room  was 
warm." 

Colonel  Trissilian  was  never  pained  by  Ringold's 
want  of  sympathy  again.  Every  word  he  uttered,  every 
plan  he  meditated,  brimmed  the  eyes  of  Ringold  with  a 
flood  of  interest.  The  lad  assumed  a  sort  of  affectionate 
authority  over  his  superior  from  that  night,  which  was 
charming  to  Trissilian.  It  was  unlike  any  petting  he 
had  ever  had. 

From  being  a  haughty,  fascinating  boy,  Ringold 
changed  to  a  loving  child. 

This  convalescence  held  the  sweetest  time  of  Trissil- 
ian's  life.  There  was  an  element  in  the  nature  of 
Ringold  that  just  met  the  wants  and  tastes  of  his  officer. 
His  very  soul  responded  to  the  voice  of  his  new  friend, 
as  it  changed  and  softened  while  they  drifted  through 
the  first  month  of  spring. 

Day  after  day  Ringold  rode  up  and  down  the  city, 
visited  all  the  military  posts,  made  inquiries  in  a  cau- 
tious way  for  Abernethy  St.  Remy,  but  he  could  get  no 


TEE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  175 

tidings.  Either  he  was  in  the  service  under  an  assumed 
name,  or  he  had  joined  the  commandant  of  some  other 
post.  This  at  times,  with  his  anxiety  about  home, 
brought  the  cloud  back,  and  it  seemed  almost  impene- 
trable. So  his  life  vibrated. 

General  Grant  had  been  appointed  commander  of  the 
new  military  division,  known  as  West  Tennessee.  He 
was  a  major-general  now.  He  had  pushed  up  the  Cum- 
berland, and  possessed  the  towns  and  store-houses  on 
the  coast.  Fort  Henry  was  his  head-quarters,  and  from 
this  shore  he  penetrated  southward  to  the  borders  of  the 
State  of  Mississippi. 

Colonel  Trissiliari  joined  his  regiment  at  Pittsburg 
Landing,  though  under  protest  from  his  surgeon.  He 
could  not  linger  when  the  bugle  call  sounded,  and  in- 
timated another  triumph.  Had  it  been  a  summons  to 
death,  or  defeat,  he  would  have  been  just  as  eager.  He 
wished  to  know  what  fate  had  for  him,  and  for  his 
country. 

Before  starting,  the  colonel  tucked  a  pair  of  side-arms, 
small  and  beautiful,  into  Ringold's  belt.  In  vain  had 
the  colonel  urged  their  necessity  before,  and  was  sur- 
prised at  the  unexplained  change  in  the  boy's  manner. 
He  knew  it  was  because  Ringold  was  upon  his  own 
soil — almost  at  home  that  caused  him  to  lay  aside  the 
loathed  weapons  which  had  served  him  so  worthily  far- 
ther away  from  the  "  Dearest  spot." 

Now  the   boy  had   some   one   to  love  and  defend, 


176  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

against  even  a  Tennesseean.  Since  that  night  when  the 
little  shoe  was  shown  him — so  like  one  he  remember- 
ed— oh  so  like  !  he  had  no  aversion  to  the  means  of  self- 
preservation. 

It  had  been  after  many  a  remonstrance  from  Ringold 
that  the  colonel  assumed  the  fighting,  and  laid  aside 
the  invalid's  role. 

These  last  days  were  so  pleasant  to  remember. 

Trissilian  did  not,  while  Ringold  did  know,  why. 


THE  BOY  IN  BL US.  1 77 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WITH      THE      ENEMY. 

"Not  as  we  hoped,  in  calm  of  prayer, 
The  message  ot  deliverance  came, 
But  heralded  by  roll  of  drums 
On  waves  of  battle-troubled  air. 

"  Not  as  we  hoped  ; — but  what  are  we  ? 
Above  our  broken  dreams  and  plans, 
God  lays,  with  wiser  hands  than  man's, 
The  comer  stones  of  Liberty." 

MAN  has  sometimes  his  bitterest  foe  in  himself. 
Rebellion  had  more  enemies  in  her  heart  after  the  last 
disaster  to  her  arms,  than  she  lost  men  by  the  Federal 
capture,  but  they  dare  not  discover  their  hate. 

Mercy,  grace,  and  pardon  were  forgotten  virtues. 
The  tropical  growth  of  wrong  choked  every  struggling 
element  of  right.  Bloodless  martyrs  fell  every  day 
into  waiting  graves  because  there  was  no  hope.  If  jus- 
tice was  ever  to  reign  again,  and  the  peaceful  days  ever 
to  come  back,  they  were  too  far  off,  and  the  gulf  of 
misery  too  deep  between.  Since  the  fall  of  Fort  Don- 
nelson  the  line  of  defeat  had  not  found  a  termination  for 
the  rebels. 

,    ' 


1 78  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE, 

An  army  of  sixty  thousand  men,  after  being  joined 
by  General  Crittenden's  from  Mumfreesboro,  were  six 
weary  weeks  in  reaching  Corinth,  from  Bowling  Green 
and  other  places  of  confederate  concentration.  Week  after 
week,  through  the  mud,  unsheltered  at  night,  and  half 
fed  by  day,  lying  down  wherever  the  darkness  found 
them,  in  plowed  fields,  in  dripping  rain,  or  under  the 
pitiless  stars,  it  is  no  wonder  if  they  forgot  everything 
but  their  pressing  wants,  and  desolated  their  pathway 
like  famished  locusts.  Two  thousand  wagons  cut  the 
earth  into  ridges,  like  the  path  of  a  ball,  and  the  spring 
rains  filled  their  tracks  with  mire. 

For  oh,  so  long !  the  incessant  tramp  kept  on,  and 
fever  felled  the  men  as  a  woodman  fells  a  forest.  Sick 
men  filled  the  villages  on  the  route.  Some  strayed  out 
of  the  ranks  in  delirium,  and  lay  down  to  die  alone. 
Rest  was  all  in  all,  to  some,  and  they  risked  being  cap- 
tured as  deserters,  just  for  one  long  sleep  in  some  shel- 
tered spot. 

They  were  mostly  ignorant  men  who  filled  the  ranks, 
and  they  reasoned  that  the  planters  made  the  war  and 
they  must  suffer  some  of  its  penalties.  So  the  fine 
blooded  animals  that  were  the  pride  of  their  possessors, 
and  won  stakes  at  the  small  races,  served  to  bear 
away  tired  soldiers.  Ladies'  saddle  ponies,  farm 
drudges,  carriage  beauties,  all  went  on  ill  this  three 
hundred  miles  of  march. 

Desperate  men  were  among  them.     Duplicity,  theft 


THE  LO r  IN  BL  UK  1 79 

and  desertion,  had  been  taught  them  by  Floyd,  and  in  a 
smaller  way,  by  many  others. 

Every  treasure  was  swept  out  of  their  path.  Nothing 
but  desolation  was  left.  Military  despotism  ruled.  Acts 
of  private  injustice  were  unheeded  and  unpunished,  but 
an  utterance  of  affection  for  the  old  ways  of  peace,  was 
rewarded  by  death,  and  so  the  men  were  silent,  taking 
vengeance  and  comfort  whenever  it  came  in  their  way. 

At  last  they  reached  Corinth,  but  Grant  was  at  Pitts- 
burg  Landing  !  How  they  dreaded  his  approach.  Their 
officers  cheered  them,  but  they  remembered  their  de- 
sertion in  the  last  encounter. 

Beauregard,  however,  was  with  them  now,  and  he 
was  their  pet  and  idol,  arid  Johnson  was  no  coward. 
He  would  stand  or  fall  by  them,  and  they  tried  to  take 
heart. 

The  flotilla  of  the  federals  was  empty  in  the  river 
while  the  soldiery  was  encamped,  and  preparing  for 
battle  only  twenty  miles  away. 

Their  generals,  after  a  midnight  consultation,  resolved 
this  time  to  be  the  attacking  party.  Generals  Price 
and  Van  Dorn  were  to  join  them  with  thirty  thousand 
troops,  and  then  they  would  swallow  their  enemies,  and 
regain  their  lost  prestige.  All  Friday  night,  with  five 
days'  rations,  these  mistaken  men  crept  toward  the 
federal  lines,  making  only  eight  miles  in  the  dark 
hours. 

Within  three  miles  of  the  unsuspecting  army,  all 


1 SO  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

Saturday,  was  spent  arranging  for  a  combined  attack  on 
the  Sabbath. 

The  drums  of  the  Unionists,  reached  the  enemy's 
camp  with  their  careless  music.  Double  guards  were 
stationed  in  front,  whose  zeal  in  the  Southern  cause  was 
unmistakable,  for  fear  some  Union-loving  conscript 
would  escape  to  the  shelter  of  the  Stripes  and  Stars. 
Some  had  already  gone  with  the  fall  of  Fort  Donnelson, 
and  these  voluntary  losses  to  their  numbers  were  so 
much  harder  to  contemplate  than  a  reduction  of  num- 
bers by  shot  and  shell. 

Little  rest  did  they  get  this  last  night  before  the 
butchery.  On  the  cold  wet  ground,  with  nothing  above 
them,  and  only  the  promise  from  Beauregard  that  they 
should  sleep  in  the  enemy's  camp  on  Sunday  night, 
comforted  them. 

This  might  have  been  interpreted  to  some  of  their 
sad  fancies,  as  it  really  happened,  and  their  last  night's 
upward  gaze  at  the  stars,  an  appeal  for  mercy  and  ac- 
ceptance. 

Tender  thoughts  of  the  beloved,  wherever  they  waited, 
were  sent  wandering  home,  and  childhood  memories 
softened  the  hearts  of  men  who  were  hard  from  wrong 
received,  and  not  from  wickedness  willingly  committed. 
Many  a  good  bye  was  silently  sent  where  the  next  bulletin 
would  carry  heartbreak. 

God  pity  the  waiting  ! 

Perhaps  a  little  sleep,  perhaps  only  a  wretched  aching 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  \  8 1 

of  the  tired  bones,  and  at  three  o'clock,  without  a  bugle 
call,  every  man  was  under  arms,  and  the  unwarned 
Union  soldiery  were  falling  like  dead  leaves  in  an 
early  autumn  wind,  before  the  Sabbath  sun  looked  into 
their  eyes. 

It  would  be  the  old  pitiful  story  to  go  over  this  battle. 
The  surprise,  and  the  rapidity  with  which  the  unpre- 
pared federals  recovered  their  self-possession,  are  matters 
of  history. 

The  early  report  of  musketry  did  not  startle  the  half- 
dreaming  men  in  the  morning.  The  drum-beat  had  not 
sent  out  its  call,  nor  the  bugle  given  its  warning.  Be- 
sides, this  rattle  and  din  was  supposed  to  be  the  target 
practice  of  returning  pickets,  who  emptied  their  rifles 
at  some  imaginary  enemy,  and  then  shouted  their  fan- 
cied triumph,  and  so  the  Unionists  dreamed  on. 

But  the  wild  cries  of  "  The  Rebels  !  The  Rebels  !" 
roused  them  to  the  speedy  grasp  of  musket,  and  the 
hasty  rushing  to  battle  in  the  fixed  ranks  of  their  several 
commanders. 

Colonel  Trissilian  forgot  his  recent  suffering,  and  with 
\  that  promptness  which  came  as  if  by  inheritance,  was 
ready. 

General  Wallace  named  him  "  Toujours  pret"  and 
this  christening  under  the  fleecy  sky,  amid  the  odors  of 
early  blossoms,  and  the  matins  of  the  birds,  was  a  fitting 
one,  and  it  lasted  through  his  military  career. 

Ringold  plead  hard  to  ride  by  his  side  this  day,  and 
16 


1 82  THE  SOY  IN  BL UE. 

Trissilian  tried  in  vain  to  say  a  positive  negative,  but 
concluded  his  resistance  by  hastily  girding  a  short 
sword  which  he  had  taken  from  a  rebel  at  Fort  Donnel- 
son,  about  the  slight  waist  of  his  aid,  and  giving  him  a 
short  convulsive  grip  of  the  hand  that  quivered  through 
the  nerves  of  the  young  soldier,  said  : 

"  You  have  changed  your  mind.  You  could  not  fire 
at  a  Tennesseean  two  months  ago.  Will  you-  to-day? 
Beg  pardon,  you  don't  look  as  if  you  could.  I  wish  you 
would  not  go.  I  know  you  do  not  lack  heroism,  but 
you  havn't  told  me  all  you  will,  some  time.  I  beseech 
you  to  stay  in  the  rear." 

"  Perhaps  I'll  drop  a  Tennesseean  or  two  to-day. 
My  practice  with  Birges  has  not  made  me  less  capable 
of  service,  and  I  certainly  shall  go  with  you,  only  I 
should  like  to  know  at  whom  I  aim.  There  !  that  buckle 
is  right.  Here's  Victory.  I'll  defend  him  and  you, 
against  any  one.  We  are  in  the  advance." 

Both  rode  off  to  the  gathering  regiment. 

A  shout  greeted  their  Colonel. 

They  had  not  seen  him  since  his  fall,  and  welcomed 
him  enthusiastically.  Ringold  saw  him  draw  the  back  of 
his  hand  across  his  eyes.  No  one  else  noticed  the  mo- 
tion, or  if  they  did,  fancied  it  was  caused  by  the  strong 
light  of  that  morning,  touching  his  eyes. 

Brigadier  General  W.  H.  L.  Wallace's  division,  to 
which  he  was  attached,  did  not  get  the  message  announ- 
cing an  attack  until  several  hours  after  the  battle  had 
commenced. 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  \ 33 

They  were  near  Pittsburg  landing,  two  miles  from 
the  point  where  General  Hardee  entered  his  column, 
and  were  in  better  shape  to  meet  the  unexpected  order 
to  march,  than  if  it  had  come  as  it  did  to  General  Sher- 
man or  Prentiss. 

Wallace's  men  were  used  to  the  shriek  of  shell,  and 
the  faces  of  mangled  men,  and  they  did  not  flinch, 
though  it  may  be  every  man  felt  a  quiver,  as  possibili- 
ties would  find  a  second  of  attention,  even  in  this  hurry 
of  forming,  and  the  double  quick,  over  the  rough  way. 

Ravines,  morasses,  abrupt  ascents,  and  as  abrupt  de- 
clivities, scarce  hindered  them.  Hardly  twenty  rods 
detour  was  made  in  that  march. 

Ready  and  willing — the  scream  of  shells,  the  whir 
of  balls  and  the  fts  !  fts  !  of  bullets,  was  music  to  them, 
in  their  increased  excitement. 

For  five  hours  Colonel  Trissilian's  cool,  clear  head, 
and  rapid  action,  with  now  and  then  a  merry  word, 
kept  the  position  assigned  him  by  the  brave  Wallace. 

Twice,  an  almost  superhuman  strength  was  exhausted 
upon  this  division  frum  the  united  forces  of  Hardee, 
Bragg,  and  Cheatham,  but  General  Wallace  held  his 
ground,  and  repulsed  the  enemy.  The  thribble  col- 
umns often  parted  with  the  fallen  men,  and  then  closed 
quick  and  firm. 

Wallace  kept  them  up  to  his  own  will  and  courage, 
by  his  superior  personal  influence.  Twice,  during  the 
day  he  passed  Trissilian,  and  his  salutation  of  approval 


1 84  THE  BOY  IN  BL UK 

added  to  his  "Toujours  pret"  fired  the  young  officer's 
heart  anew  with  enthusiasm.  Once  the  General  stopped 
to  ask  who  the  young  lad  was,  who  carried  the  last  or- 
der, and  bore  no  distinctive  mark  of  rank. 

"  Only  a  volunteer  for  the  day,  and  my  friend,"  Tris- 
silian  replied,  lifting  his  cap. 

"  He  has  the  courage  that  would  make  one  of  the  old 
'  Six  Hundred.'  Tell  him  to  come  to  me,  when  the 
fight  is  over." 

Valkyria  called  another  hero  to  the  brave  man's  feast 
in  Valhalla,  that  day  and  when  the  fallen  General  was 
borne  tenderly  to  the  rear,  his  division  followed  him  ! 

In  vain  Trissilian  called,  and  cheered  his  regiment, 
and  they  halted,  and  faltered  as  if  they  would,  but  could 
not  remain.  Their  courage,  endurance  and  enthusiasm 
was  gone  with  their  leader,  but  Trissilian  would  not 
leave  the  face  of  the  foe,  and  was  near,  when  General 
Prentiss  was  surrounded. 

He  fought  till  there  was  not  a  ball  left  in  his  side-arms, 
and  his  sabre  had  been  struck  from  his  grasp  five  min- 
utes before. 

Ringold  was  by  his  side,  and  Victory  was  plunging 
his  feet  into  the  enemy's  front. 

The  rebels  curled  around  these  two  daring  fellows,  and 
were  striking  towards  Trissilian's  shoulder.  A  quick 
look  backward,  and  a  swift  motion  of  the  left  spur, 
and  then  a  sword  thrust  at  the  nearest  arm  of  an  attack- 
ing rebel,  and  he,  too,  was  doomed.  Another  blow 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  \ 85 

cleft  the  cheek  of  an  officer,  and  then  the  sword-blade 
was  hurled  high  in  air,  but  the  hilt  was  left  in  the  small 
firm  hand  of  Ringold.  A  second,  and  the  light  silver 
mounted  revolvers  were  flashing  their  winged  messen- 
gers of  death  deliberately  into  the  faces  of  the  ene- 
my. 

Trissilian  was  fighting  because  they  were  rebels,  and 
Ringold  was  protecting  his  friend.  Neither  thought  of 
capture,  but  the  crowd  closed  in.  Their  balls  were 
spent,  both  blades  were  gone,  and  they  were  prisoners. 
Trissilian's  horse,  a  noble  creature  captured  at  Fort 
Henry,  had  carried. him  grandly  till  now,  but  he  shud- 
dered, swayed,  and  only  the  rider's  perfect  conscious- 
ness of  every  surrounding  motion,  saved  him  from  be- 
ing rolled  under  the  huge  creature.  He  dismounted, 
and  there  was  nothing  left,  arms  useless,  sword  gone, 
horse  dying,  his  division,  cowards  at  the  last,  and  the 
General  dead  ! 

Ringold  leaped  from  his  saddle,  and  offered  the  rein 
to  his  colonel,  but  he  would  not  take  it. 

So  fierce  a  contest,  so  heroic  an  officer,  and  so  devot- 
ed a  defender,  won  a  cheer,  from  the  appreciative  rebels. 
Not  a  hand  was  lifted,  but  the  crowd  and  their  bayonets 
closed  in,  and  that  was  all.  Prentiss  and  his  men,  with 
a  few  hardy  fellows  of  Wallace's  command,  were  hur- 
ried off  amid  exultant  shouts  of  triumph. 

Trissilian  was  so  changed  !  A  positive  sense  of  sup- 
pressed power  made  him  walk  like  a  captive  king 
16* 


186  THE  BOY  IN BL UK 

His  eyes  were  flooded  with  a  look  that  his  guard  did 
not  willingly  meet.  Quick,  scrutinizing,  and  penetra- 
tive always,  an  inflexibility  like  welded  iron  seemed  to 
have  grown  into  his  lips,  brows  and  figure.  There  was 
but  one  symtom  of  fear,  and  that  was  to  face  Ringold. 
The  Aid  was  his  superior  in  patience,  and  submission, 
when  resistance  was  useless. 

"  Don't  kick  against  the  pricks,  Colonel.  I  am  glad 
we  are  here  together.  If  I  had  missed  you,  I  should 
have  penetrated  the  lines,  and  surrendered  myself." 

"  Would  you,  Ringold  ?  I  cannot  quite  believe  you. 
Say  it  again,  so  that  I  can  pardon  myself  for  letting 
you  come  to-day." 

Ringold  repeated  it. 

"  Ye'd  a  been  a  dead  man  three  times  over  if  the  lad 
hadn't  a  turned  the  blows  betwixt  ye's  and  purgatory, 
shure.  How  the  divil  o'  fight  leaped  out'en  his  eyes, 
be  gorry,  when  the  blows  fell,  and  the  bum,  bum,  bum, 
o'  that  bit  uv  a  pistol  fetched  a  man  every  time,  by  St. 
Michael.  Some  saint  guarded  ye,  for  sartain,  and  ye 
bees  Yankees." 

This  Irish  corporal  was  enthusiastic.  He  had  never 
seen  any  thing  half  so  fine  in  fighting,  before,  and  he  had 
been  in  too  many  contests,  for  his  soul's  peace.  He 
vowed  to  himself  that  if  the  prisoners  were  under  his 
care  "  a  precious  little  watching  would  they  get,  sure." 
The  Virgin's  prayers  spared  them,  he  believed,  and  no 


THE  SOT  IN  BLUE.  1 87 

earthly  interference  with  special  spiritual  protection 
was  right. 

The  prisoners  were  dejected,  after  a  while.  They 
were  almost  certain  our  army  was  defeated.  Willingly, 
aye,  gladly  would  they  give  a  score  of  lives  if  they  pos- 
sessed them,  to  secure  victory. 

Then  they  heard  the  wild  cries  of  success,  as  they  were 
hurried  on  toward  Corinth.  By  and  bye  they  heard  a 
different  crash  through  the  air,  and  turning  back  there 
were  white  wreaths  curling  up  to  the  sky  from  the 
river.  The  sound  was  music,  and  the  smoke,  incense. 
The  gun-boats  were  pouring  death  up  the  ravine  ! 

The  prisoners  comprehended.  They  shout  and  toss  up 
their  caps,  in  hope  of  ultimate  success,  but  the  prick  of 
bayonets  held  their  enthusiasm  in  check. 

Till  deep  night  they  marched,  and  the  rain  came 
down  cold  and  continuous,  beating  the  drops  into  their 
faces.  The  prisoners  had  no  joy  of  positive  success 
throbbing  through  their  veins,  to  keep  their  suffering  at 
bay.  They  were  getting  farther  from  the  music  of  the 
shells,  but  they  uttered  no  complaint,  nor  faltered. 
The  Colonel  and  Ringold  were  separated  from  the 
Prentiss  prisoners,  by  special  order.  A  communion  of 
disaster,  is  not  like  a  sympathy  of  success,  and  the  sep- 
aration brought  no  pain.  Jetty  had  been  left  on  one 
of  the  steamers,  And  this  comforted  Ringold.  His  ser- 
vices were  needed  there,  and  before  the  news  of  the 
attack  reached  over  the  ravine  to  General  Wallace,  the 


1 88  THE  BOY  IN  BL HE. 

negro  had  been  sent  off  to  remain  till  wanted.  It 
would  save  the  tender  heart  some  agony — but  the 
future  ! 

The  next  day  dawned  at  length,  dreary,  and  filled 
with  the  wails  of  the  wounded,  and  the  moaning  of  the 
dying.  Hospitals  had  been  improvised  on  the  road  to 
Corinth,  and  by  one  of  these,  the  two  halted.  No  food 
was  offered,  nor  did  they  desire  it.  They  were  permit- 
ted shelter,  but  no  sleep  came.  The  weak  limb  of 
Colonel  Trissilian  grew  painful,  but  the  surgeons  were 
human.  They  bandaged  it,  and  directed  a  delay. 

All  Monday  they  sat  amid  the  dying,  and  listened 
to  the  curses  of  men  maddened  with  agony,  and  eager 
to  be  avenged  upon  either  their  leaders,  or  the  Federals. 
Ignorant  wretches,  dying  when  the  world  would  be 
better  without  them,  and  life  held  no  more  happiness 
for  their  mangled  bodies. 

In  the  distance  the  trees  seemed  covered  at  times  with 
a  pall  of  flame,  and  between  the  moans  and  the  shrieks, 
— brief  pauses — the  continuous  thunder  of  artillery  peal- 
ed on.  Their  wretched  fancies  saw  streams  of  blood 
flowing  down  the  gorges,  and  a  procession  of  souls  en- 
tering the  Gate-ways  of  the  mysterious  Hereafter. 

Waiting  became  more  terrible  than  the  fray. 

Toward  noon  an  officer  was  led  into  the  hospital. 
Trissilian  and  Ringold  both  shuddered.  His  splendid 
figure  was  fixed  in  their  memories  forever. 

Just  missing  his  head  while  aiming  at  his  temple,  Rin- 


THE  BO  T  IN  £L  UK  1 89 

gold's  last  ball  was  spent.  A  motion  of  the  magnificent 
war-horse  upon  which  the  rebel  sat,  let  the  charge  pass 
in  front  of  his  eyes.  The  revolver  was  within  an  inch's 
distance  of  his  face.  They  thought  him  wounded  at 
the  time,  for  his  hand  went  quickly  to  his  brow,  but  they 
saw  nothing  more  in  the  rush  of  contestants,  and  the 
blaze  of  incessant  musketry. 

Worn  and  sad,  he  looked,  and  such  a  world  of 
suppressed  agony  was  manifest  in  his  expression.  Rin- 
gold's  head  dropped  upon  his  open  palm  and  he  reeled, 
but  the  quick  strong  arm  of  the  colonel  saved  him. 

They  comprehended  this  fearful  visitation  to  a  traitor, 
but  oh  the  hand  that  dealt  the  vengeance,  would  it  ever 
be  clean  again  ? 

Ringold  lifted  his  head  and  gazed  at  his  small  taper 
fingers.  They  were  browned  by  exposure,  and  slightly 
muscular  with  use.  He  turned  them  over ;  there  was 
no  stain  upon  them.  He  peered  closer,  with  an  anx- 
ious endeavor  to  be  certain  there  was  no  blood. 

"  Nothing  there.  'Tis  as  pure  as  your  soul,  Ringold. 
Let  me  touch  it.  It  is  a  dear  hand,  and  saved  the  life  of 
one,  who  if  he  is  poor  in  words,  has  no  poverty  of  feel- 
ing. The  deed  made  this  little  brave  hand  holy  " — and 
the  colonel  bent  over  it,  and  left  a  kiss  in  the  palm. 

The  hand  closed,  and  the  first  tears  gathered,  big  and 
clear,  and  lay  like  diamonds  upon  dusky  velvet.  Then 
a  smile  came.  Just  as  you  have  seen  the  level  evening 


1 90  THE  BO  Y  IN  EL  UK 

sun  lay  over  the  bronze-green  of  twilight  woods,  so  this 
gleam  lit  the  face  of  The  Boy  in  Blue. 

The  wounded  were  oblivious  of  the  scene,  and  the 
prisoners,  and  the  surgeons,  too  busy  with  their  moan- 
ing men,  and  with  this  one  new  blinded  patient.  Only 
a  look  with  their  skillful  eyes  revealed  the  terrible  truth. 
No  more  light  from  heaven  would  fall  upon  this  man's 
days. 

May  angels  lead  him  into  the  better  beams  that  fall 
upon  pure  spirits,  waiting  for  perpetual  day  ! 

His  name  was  Hobart  Ringold.  Was  he  anything 
to  the  boy  who  doomed  him  to  perpetual  darkness  ? 
They  did  not  look  as  if  the  same  blood  leaped,  or  cur- 
dl£d  in  their  veins,  and  yet ! — Aurora  Farnam  prayed 
that  this  man  might  never  look  upon  her  face  again ! 
She  did  not  pray  for  just  this. 

He  remembered,  but  even  the  bitterness  of  his  re- 
pentance had  not  turned  away  the  curse. 

Just  outside  the  tent  stood  the  horse  that  saved  his 
master's  life,  neighing  for  the  sound  of  his  voice,  or  the 
touch  of  his  hand.  He  would  never  be  guided  by  that 
strong  will  again. 

Another  had  led  him  from  the  front,  when  the  hot 
breath  of  cannon  still  seethed  the  weary  gunners,  and 
swayed  the  fate  of  our  Nation. 

Hobart  Ringold  had  longed  to  drown  his  thoughts  of 
home  in  the  din,  but  he  could  not  now,  because  Fate 
bade  him  think — think — only  think,  forever. 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL  UE.  191 

The  splendid  animal  he  had  so  loved,  because  it  be- 
longed to  the  dear  past,  was  led  up  and  down  where  the 
sound  of  his  hoofs  could  come  in  through  the  doorway. 
Nothing  but  this  dumb  creature  of  all  that  had  filled 
his  greedy  soul  so  full  of  happiness,  in  the  old  times  ! 
He  had  christened  the  handsome  beast,  Glory,  in  that 
forsaken  home,  and  sometimes  he  said  to  himself  after 
calling  the  name : 

"  But  I  am  only  Ichabod  now.  It  signifies  all  there 
is  of  Hobart  Ringold  !" 

It  was  a  touching  sight  to  look  at  the  two,  man  and 
horse,  and  tears  rained  from  eyes  that  would  scorn  to 
weep  for  themselves. 

Death  might  have  been  merciful,  but  it  would  not. 
Fate  had  no  tenderness  for  him. 

The  day  waned.  Other  prisoners  came  up.  Rebel 
success  flowed  yesterday,  but  was  ebbing  to-day.  After 
mid-day,  tidings  of  losses  came ;  then  orders  to  move 
the  wounded  to  Corinth. 

The  swollen  limb  of  Trissilian  was  forced  to  further 
service,  and  the  sinking  sun  left  them  far  out  from  their 
destination. 

Human  agony  rolled  by  in  dashing  ambulances,  every 
motion  of  which  was  worse  than  death.  The  dead  were 
thrown  out  as  soon  as  their  tortured  bodies  gave  up  their 
spirits. 

It  was  a  procession  of  unutterable  distress.  No  words 
could  picture  it. 


192  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

Hardened  men  sickened,  and  fainted  at  the  sight,  and 
ears  were  so  maddened  by  the  cries,  that  their  soula 
never  again  asserted  supremacy.  Rain  fell,  and  fevered 
lips  thanked  God  for  this  refreshing.  Then  sleet,  icy 
and  driving,  chilled  them  to  their  very  marrow.  Open 
wagons,  with  not  a  blanket  even  to  shelter  the  suffering 
occupants,  carried  the  bruised  and  broken  men.  After- 
wards, as  if  the  vengeance  of  the  heavens  was  not  fully 
wreaked  upon  these  breakers  of  God's  images,  hail  fell, 
big  and  pitiless.  Two  inches  of  these  glistening  bullets 
lay  over  the  earth. 

Trissilian  and  Ringold  did  not  suffer.  They  could 
feel  nothing  but  the  glory  of  their  flag,  and  the  triumph 
of  their  arms. 

The  bandaged  foot  did  uncomplaining  service,  and 
the  daylight  found  them  at  Corinth. 

Through  the  morning's  confusion,  and  the  waiting  and 
watching  of  the  guards  for  the  strange  sights,  the  quiet 
ways  of  the  prisoners,  were  scarcely  noticed.  Hard 
bread  and  water  for  breakfast  was  very  sweet.  They 
could  rejoice  in  their  dripping  garments  as  if  they  had 
but  now  been  lifted  up  from  a  baptism  of  great  joy. 

Presently  a  sight  thrilled  Ringold.  Beauregard 
dashed  by  them  upon  Victory.  Superbly  he  carried  the 
Bonaparte  of  the  Confederacy.  His  lips  foamed,  and 
his  ears  and  nostrils  indicated  a  wicked  spirit  of  vanity. 
Perhaps  the  evil  was  contagious.  Not  a  word  from 
the  two,  indicated  special  interest  in  the  arrival.  Beau- 


THE  BOY  IN  BL HE.  1 93 

regard  was  sufficiently  marvelous  to  excuse  all  the 
eager  looks  of  Colonel  Trissilian  and  Ringold.  Upon 
the  floor  of  the  room  where  they  were  standing  lay  men, 
heaped  and  ready  for  burial.  Clothing  was  sometimes 
partially  stripped  from  them,  to  cover  the  chilled  bones 
of  the  fever  wasted,  who  were  waiting  to  go.  Soldiers 
were  fitting  themselves  to  garments,  and  self  wag 
the  absorbing  thought.  Everything  was  confusion. 
Chaos  was  reigning.  The  retreat  was  hardly  begun, 
though  it  had  been  all  night  throbbing  over  the  icy 
miles. 

Amidst  the  din,  a  poor  black  fellow,  attenuated  by 
hunger,  and  tattered  by  time  and  poverty,  crept  cau- 
tiously up  to  Colonel  Trissilian,  arid  whispered  a  ques- 
tion, upon  whose  answer  the  negro  seemed  to  be  reposing 
his  future  expectations. 

"  If  you  please,  sah,  Mista  Captain  Yankee,  will  ye 
tell  a  culled  pusson  when  Mista  Mont  is  to  be  lected  ? 
Mista  Mont,  de  man  who  has  promised  to  make  us 
cullud  people,  into  white  Yankees,  so  dat  we  calls  him 
Freemont,  if  you  please,  sah  ?" 

"  Mr.  Lincoln  will  not  wait,  my  poor  fellow,  for  Mr. 
Mont's  election.  You  will  be  free  very  soon,  and  bet- 
ter, perhaps,  for  your  color.  Keep  up  your  courage, 
and  remember,  Mr.  Lincoln  will  give  you  liberty,  and 
you  may  depend  upon  a  change  of  color,  when  Fremont 
is  President." 

How  the  white  teeth  glittered,  and  even  Trissilian 
17 


1 94  THE  BOY  IN  BL UK 

found  he  had  a  voice  with  which  he  could  still  laugh. 

Hobart  Ririgold  had  gone  to  a  lodging  house  of  com- 
parative quiet,  and  his  sergeant  was  now  begging  a 
waiter,  for  a  surgeon  to  go  to  his  officer.  Glory  was 
pawing  the  earth  by  the  door,  with  the  rein  lying  loosely 
over  a  post. 

An  inspiration  seized  the  prisoners.  They  had  looked 
strategy  at  each  other  in  the  silence  during  a  trial  of  gar- 
ments belonging  to  the  fallen  rebels.  They  had  seemed 
to  their  guard,  who  was  waiting  orders,  only  pleasant 
"  Yanks,"  and  if  it  amused  them  to  masquerade  in  rebel 
uniforms,  why,  said  he  : 

"  Split  me,  if  I'll  hinder  a  bit  of  fun.  Its  little  they'll 
get  anyhow.  If  I  wasn't  on  duty,  I'd  shut  my  eyes  till 
the  pleasant  spakein  gintlernen  were  safe  wid  their 
own,  so  I  wud,  be  gorry,  or  me  Christian  name's  not 
Michael." 

Victory  was  held  lightly  by  a  servant,  and  the  poor 
creature  looked  sadly  dispirited,  and  drooping,  when  at 
rest. 

Amid  the  troops  outside,  with  their  jaded  beasts, 
and  the  hurried  interchange  of  wonderful  experiences, 
Colonel  Trissilian  and  Ringold  stood  in  dry  grey  coats, 
after  carefully  hanging  their  own,  where  the  guard  was 
to  understand  they  were  to  dry,  and  then  be  assumed. 

A  low  whistle  was  sent  from  Ringold.  Nobody  ob- 
served. Victory  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  turned  his 
handsome  head.  Presently  another  low  whistle.  The 


TEE  BO  T  IN  BL  UK  195 

mounted  attendant  of  Beauregard,  used  the  rein  care- 
lessly. Another  whistle,  and  the  animal  sprang  away 
from  the  grasp  that  kept  him  so  insecurely,  and  fol- 
lowed the  sound.  Not  so  hurriedly  did  he  plunge  as 
to  disturb  the  worn  and  dispirited  soldiery,  and  there 
was  no  haste  to  recover  him.  Leisurely,  followed  the 
rebel  sergeant.  Colonel  Trissilian  now  parted  the 
crowd  like  a  wedge,  mounted  Glory  as  coolly  as  if  he 
had  been  his  master,  all  unnoticed  by  easy  Michael,  and 
a  second  more  elapsed,  and  Ringold  sat  in  Victory's 
saddle,  and  both  were  darting  toward  the  corning  ene- 
my ! 

"  Dispatches  for  Breckenridge,"  Trissilian  called  out 
whenever  he  passed  an  officer,  who  he  saluted  as  grace- 
fully, as  if  he  was  no  refugee  from  rebel  captivity. 

When  once  out  in  the  open  country,  they  made  a 
detour,  that  sent  suspecting  bullets  after  them,  but  it 
did  not  bring  them  back.  They  were  safe. 

These  hours  over  a  rough  country,  after  their  ex- 
hausting imprisonment,  were  difficult  to  endure,  but 
brimmed  with  the  fullness  of  gratitude,  and  flooded  with 
the  rose  light  of  hope. 

They  took  a  circle  outside  the  Federal  lines,  and 
approaching  with  a  handkerchief  waving  a  truce,  the 
pickets  permitted  them  to  advance.  Little  explanation 
was  needed.  Many  were  escaping  from  the  enemies' 
lines,  and  the  pursuit  of  the  fleeing  foe  was  too  recent, 
to  make  their  appearance  of  much  interest. 


196  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

Joy  was  everywhere.  The  wounded  lifted  their 
hands  of  triumph,  and  the  dying  smiled  in  the  face  of 
Death.  The  sacrifice  had  not  been  too  great. 

The  storm  that  had  seemed  so  unmerciful  to  the 
retreating,  during  that  terrible  night,  had  been  a  special 
God-send  to  those  who  lay  in  the  ravines  under  the 
trees,  or  in  the  old  cotton  field,  gory  and  rough,  with 
the  footprints  of  war.  The  dead  leaves  had  caught  fire 
from  the  incessant  blaze  of  artillery,  and  was  creeping 
up  to  the  helpless,  and  only  the  blessing  of  the  storm 
quenched  these  red,  lapping  tongues  of  a  new  enemy. 

Desolation  reigned,  but  the  passions  of  brutality  and 
hatred  were  lulled — Thank  God  ! 

There  were  days  after  this  fearful  episode,  before 
either  the  limb  of  Colonel  Trissilian,  or  the  nerves  of 
Ringold  could  get  surgical  permission  to  do  duty. 

Good,  faithful  Jetty  had  worn  his  cheeks  into  black 
channels  by  a  perpetual  weeping  of  three  days  and 
nights,  but  fortunately  they  were  washed  away,  after 
his  master's  hand  had  been  kissed,  and  he  was  sure  that 
it  was  no  ghost  come  back  from  the  fray.  Indeed,  that 
same  dingy  face,  in  one  half  hour,  became  two  shiny 
ebony  hemispheres,  dimpled  with  a  continuous  grin  of 
recovered  happiness. 

Only  one  distress  lay  between  the  present,  and  the 
past,  whenever  they  could  put  away  the  memory  of  the 
moans,  and  the  still  faces,  their  fixed  agony  glaring  into 
the  sky,  or  with  the  old  innocent  look  of  boyhood,  or 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  1 97 

childhood,  making  them  beautiful  in  death.  This  was 
the  remembrance  of  Hobart  Ringold's  sightless  eyes,  and 
his  love  for  Glory,  the  noble  animal  who  had  helped 
them  to  Liberty. 

There  was  a  private  interview  with  Major  General 
Grant,  the  evening  of  their  escape,  April  8th,  and  the 
next  day  Glory  went  back  to  Corinth  with  the  flag  of 
truce,  that  came  begging  permission  to  bury  the  rebel 
dead. 

General  Halleck  was  now  coming  to  take  command. 
Little  enthusiasm  followed  this  announcement.  The 
soldiers  were  satisfied  with  their  present  leader,  more 
than  that,  they  loved  him  with  a  soldier's  love,  which  is 
deep  and  abiding,  always. 

It  mattered  little.  They  were  becoming  so  accus- 
tomed to  success.  They  expected  it  in  whatever  en- 
gagement they  should  henceforth  have.  This  faith 
made  them  powerful.  Those. who  had  once  flinched  in 
the  face  of  the  foe,  were  eager  to  retrieve  themselves. 
They  wore  a  dogged  look  of  longing  for  an  immediate 
battle,  and  this  was  their  one  wish  during  their  days  of 
re-organization. 

How  cheerfully  would  they  purchase  at  any  peril, 
their  old  position ! 

Colonel  Trissilian  found  his  men  not  demoralized  as 
he  feared,  but  better,  for  their  experience.  Their  lost 
leader  was  embalmed  in  their  memories,  and  for  his  sake 
17* 


]  98  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

too,  they  would  fight  till  they  won,  in  the  next  engage- 
ment. 

Nearly  a  month  elapsed  before  a  general  movement 
of  the  Grand  Army  took  place.  Waiting  gives  time 
for  old  wounds  of  the  heart  to  heal,  and  the  soldiers 
grew  more  manly.  The  scenes  of  those  terrible  April 
days  were  fainter  in  memory. 

The  voices  of  the  flying  shell,  and  the  fiendish  songs 
they  sang,  were  less  vivid.  The  winging  shriek  and 
thud  of  scharpenelle,  with  its  swift  flame,  seemed  like  a 
wretched  dream. 

One  poor  fellow,  aching,  but  jolly,  was  christened, 
"Shattered,"  because  of  his  misfortune,  and  the  merry 
way  he  met  his  destiny. 

"  Shattered  is  my  name.  Had  a  bloody  baptizing 
kind  o'  betwixt  Baptist  and  Piscipal.  Fact  is,  I  was 
killed  from  one  end  to  tother,  but  was  so  pesky  spunky, 
I  wouldn't  drop  for  the  blasted  Rebs,  no  how,  be  spilt 
ef  I  would.  The  surgeons  touched  off  a  dozen  balls 
out  o'  me  now,  but  I'm  loaded  yet.  When  I  git  mj 
new  pegs,  I'lJ  have  a  crack  at  the  Johnnies.  I  hain't  been 
to  purgatory  without  coming  back  with  a  brimstone  in- 
vitation for  the  Butternuts,  to  spend  some  time  in  the 
same  climate,  smash  em !  and  I'll  be  gunpowdered  if 
they  don't  accept  it. — I'm  goin'  to  send  a  through  ticket 
by  my  double-barreled  executor.  Ye  see  I  hain't  got 
any  legs  o'  my  own,  yit — the  cork  ain't  growed, — and 
Jeems  Hogoboom  he  ain't  got  any  fists.  He'll  du  the 


THE  BOY  IN  BL HE.  199 

marchin',  and  lug  me — in  fact  he'll  be  the  limber  to  this 
machine,  and  I'll  du  the  bullets.  We're  goin'  to  hare  a 
special  war  order  for  our  case,  and  bet  your  life,  some- 
body over  the  lines  '11  pay  high  for  my  right  ear,  left 
eye,  half  my  nose,  under  lip, — both  legs,  and  all  my 
handsome  countenance.  I  don't  mind  my  scalp  so  much, 
for  I  know'd  a  gal  wot  wouldn't  have  me,  'cause  she 
didn't  like  the  inflammation  in  my  hair.  She  can't  object 
to  me  on  that  account  neau,  nor  any  other,  as  I  can  see. 
Mighty  likely  she'd  have  me  this  time,  gals  is  so  queer. 
Shouldn't  walk  out  much  by  moonlight  at  present,  in 
fact, not  enny.  Won't  'Shattered"1  look  sublime  on  my 
monument  in  the  buryin'  ground  ?  But  the  dandelions 
won't  get  a  chance  to  posy  out  over  my  stomach  for  a 
spell,  I  ken  tell  ye  for  I  wouldn't  die  no  how  till  Colonel 
Grant  was  President.  Jeems  is  to  tote  me  to  lection, 
and  I  is  to  drop  in  the  tickets.  Wouldn't  I  like  to  have 
my  pegs  long  enough  to  dance  a  hornpipe  at  Jeff  Davis' 
hanging  bee?  Jeems  will  do  it  yet,  and  I'll  fiddle. 
We're  a  hull  team,  ain't  we,  Jeems?" 

"  Bet  your  money,  we  is.  I'll  do  anything  you  say. 
You  poke  the  hoe-cake  and  bacon  into  my  "hopper,  and 
I'll  kiss  your  Mary  Ann  for  you,  every  time  you  say ;" 
and  so  the  poor  fellows  laughed  over  the  portion  of 
bone  and  sinew  left  to  them,  and  if  they  felt  a  deeper 
wound  than  nature  and  the  surgeon  had  cared  for,  they 
were  brave,  and  kept  it  unspoken,  because  they  were 
heroes  unknowing  their  own  grandeur,  and  asking  no 
recognition. 


200  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AT     CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Hot  burns  the  fire,  where  wrongs  expire ; 
Then  let  the  selfish  lips  be  dumb. 

And  hushed  the  breath  of  sighing ; 
Before  the  joys  of  peace,  must  come 

The  pains  of  purifying." 

THERE  were  strong  eddies  setting  against  liberty — 
everywhere  in  the  South,  but  by  no  means  harder  to  be 
stemmed  here,  than  within  many  other  blackened  boun- 
daries, but  the  fierce  will  of  mountaineers,  always  held 
opinions  like  bulwarks  of  bolted  steel,  and  cultivated 
passionate  resistance  to  any  opposition. 

The  spring  dawned  dismally  to  every  one.  Success 
gratified  the  northern  lovers  of  liberty,  but  the  tidings 
were  not  permitted  to  penetrate  the  Confederacy. 

There  was  more  opposition  to  the  independence  of 
the  South  than  was  anticipated  by  the  sanguine,  and  far 
less  respect  shown  them  from  other  nationalities,  than 
they  supposed.  The  pressure  of  a  year's  contest  lessened 
the  comforts  of  luxurious  planters,  and  embittered  them 
to  every  resistant  of  their  new  policy. 


TEE  £0  Y  IN  BL  UK  20 1 

Poverty  had  become  starvation,  and  moderate  wealth, 
meant  absolute  want. 

Mr.  St.  Remy  was  suffering  intensely  from  inflam 
tnatory  diseases,  and  left  his  bed  but  little. 

His  wants  were  more  difficult  to  supply,  both  by 
reason  of  the  scarcity  of  the  food  he  craved,  and  the 
caution  which  the  presence  of  nearly  eight  thousand 
cavalry,  made  necessary. 

Mrs.  Farnam  was  drifting  out  from  the  clinging  love 
of  her  husband  and  child,  and  so  they  could  absent 
themselves  very  seldom,  to  go  to  the  lonely  invalid, 
and  could  furnish  no  medicine,  except  such  as  their  un- 
skilled judgment  might  suggest.  They  were  so  dis- 
tressed for  their  captive,  that  they  looked  for  the  ap- 
proach of  death  to  the  wife  and  mother,  as  to  a  friend, 
who  would  lead  the  weary  woman  into  green  fields  of 
perpetual  peace,  and  Mr.  St.  Remy  into  liberty  and 
health.  They  believed  they  would  sometime  join  her 
in  her  rest,  and  when  the  last  breath  fluttered  outward, 
they  wept  together,  but  not  tears  of  sorrow. 

Lonely,  they  would  have  been  without  the  low  patient 
voice  of  the  invalid,  but  there  was  another  call,  more 
pitiful  than  hers  had  ever  been,  so  soothed  was  she  by 
perpetual  affection,  and  so  dreary  and  fettered,  was 
their  friend. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  suspicion  had  never  fallen 
upon  Mr.  Farnam.  They  knew  how  zealous  he  had 
once  been,  and  believed  the  sustaining  presence  of  hia 


202  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE. 

son  had  given  him  courage  to  speak.  They  believed 
him  a  weak  man,  whose  will  was  subjective  to  an  inva- 
lid wife,  so  far  as  her  apprehension  of  his  conduct  went, 
and  beyond  her,  the  subtle  influence  of  his  unconquera- 
ble daughter,  held  him  inactive.  They  did  not  doubt 
his  position.  His  subsidy  was  always  paid  without  a 
complaint,  even  when  the  fiercest  secessionists  some- 
times groaned  over  the  cost  of  a  confederacy.  They 
did  not  imagine  he  was  purchasing  peace  for  a  dying 
wife,  and  safety  for  his  daughter.  Deception,  seemed 
no  longer  base,  to  any  one,  and  from  this,  Aurora  meas- 
ured their  retrograde  movement  toward  absolute  dis- 
honor. She  hated  herself  for  participating  in  subter- 
fuge, but  then,  there  was  the  unmade  grave,  beyond 
that,  death  or  Liberty ! 

Across  this  one  agony,  and  there  should  be  no  retro- 
cession. 

One  after  another  of  Mr.  Farnam's  colored  people 
had  fled.  A  feint  at  recapture  never  ended  in  success. 
They  were  always  comfortably  clad,  even  better  than 
ever,  just  before  they  disappeared,  and  Mr.  Farnam's 
friends  added  to  their  expressions  of  sympathy,  the 
adjective,  "  ungrateful !" 

Mr.  Farnam  said  nothing.  He  bore  his  losses  so 
serenely,  that  his  acquaintance  said  affliction  was  mak- 
ing him  indifferent,  even  stony.  If  they  had  seen  the  mid- 
night partings  between  himself  and  servants,  and  the 
kind  wishes,  and  earnest  counsel  for,  and  to  them,  his 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  203 

neighbors  would  have  been  wiser  and  wickeder.  Little 
groups  left  at  intervals,  all  through  the  spring.  There 
were  not  enough  left  to  cultivate  the  ground.  Vip  sus- 
pected, but  dare  not  utter  the  truth.  His  fortunes 
were  growing  too  rapidly.  Carryl  Farnam  did  not 
come  home,  to  look  after  Miss  St.  Remy's  house,  and 
notwithstanding  Hokey's  faithful  administration  of 
affairs,  "  Cairngorm"  looked  masterless.  It  wore  a  be- 
reaved appearance. 

The  funeral  had  been  several  days  in  the  past,  and 
the  birds  were  singing  their  lyrics  of  love  over  the 
spring  mosses,  and  promising  buds,  which  lifted  their 
green  faces  to  the  sunshine,  as  if  they  liked  their  home, 
that  new  grave,  and  the  delicate  hands  of  the  sad-eyed 
girl  who  gave  it  to  them. 

These  were  busy  days  to  Aurora,  for  she  had  deter- 
mined to  breathe  a  freer  atmosphere,  and  lay  her 
woman's  hand  upon  the  iron  wheel  which  was  crushing 
us  all,  and  with  her  small  might,  add  to  the  power  of 
thousands  who  were  tugging  at  the  millstone  of  tyran- 
ny, that  it  might  not  grind  us  to  powder.  Her  father 
was  eager  to  accompany  her,  though  he  could  not  quite 
decide  to  enter  the  Federal  ranks  against  an  only  son, 
to  whose  fate  his  own  hand  had  led  him. 

One  warm  moonless  night,  Hokey's  oar  dip  was 
muffled  with  care.  He  approached  the  Farnam's,  and 
the  house  was  utterly  dark.  He  did  not  let  the  bow 
of  his  boat  touch  the  grating  sand.  He  swam,  with  the 


204  THE  BO  Y  IN  £L  TIE. 

rope  in  his  hand,  to  the  shore,  and  slowly  drew  the  little 
shell  to  land.  Middle  deep  in  the  water,  he  lifted  his 
freight,  in  his  great  strong  arms,  and  softly  approached 
the  entrance. 

The  door  stood  wide  open,  and  across  the  hall  he 
strode  softly,  and  up  into  the  chamber  from  whence 
the  dead  had  so  recently  been  borne.  No  light  revealed 
the  changes  which  death  leaves,  but  a  voice,  so  low  that 
the  blood  trembled  coldly  through  his  heart,  said  : 

"  This  way,  my  good,  boy  !  This  is  the  bed.  Lay 
Mr.  St.  Remy  down  carefully.  Good  night,  Hokey — 
you  see  how  we  trust  you.  God  bless  your  white 
soul." 

He  was  glad  to  escape.  His  long  limbs  were  not 
laggards  by  the  way  to  "  Cairngorm."  He  could  not 
be  certain  that  Mrs.  Farnam's  voice  had  not  directed 
him  in  that  dark  chamber.  She  used  to  whisper  when 
he  carried  messages,  from  his  dear  old  master,  with 
flowers  to  her  bedside,  years  ago.  He  could  not  remem- 
ber when  she  spoke  aloud. 

There  is  a  terror  of  the  supernatural,  and  a  profound 
faith  in  its  existence,  in  every  drop  of  African  blood, 
and  neither  reason  nor  education  can  press  it  out. 

Hokey  could  not  sleep.  A  slow  fever  made  him  a 
prisoner  in  his  room  by  morning. 

Aurora's  intuitive  soul  feared  something.  She  took 
the  key  of  the  locked  room,  which  no  servant  dared  en- 
ter, because  of  the  pale-faced  woman  who  lay  so  long 
within  its  walls,  and  went  out.  Curiosity  might  gather 


THE  BO  T  IN  SL  HE.  205 

courage  for  a  swift  look  within  the  death-chamber  in  her 
absence,  and  then  they  were  all  lost. 

She  found  Hokey  in  a  raging  delirium.  The  frightened 
domestics  supposed  he  had  gone  mad,  and  were  huddled 
into  the  extreme  wing  of  "  Cairngorm."  This  terror, 
saved  the  secret.  Aurora  comprehended  her  position 
fully.  Her  mental  and  physical  forces  were  always 
marshaled  for  use,  and  to-day  they  served  her  nobly.  Un- 
aided, she  mastered  the  muscular  man,  with  that  strange 
power  in  her  eyes  and  voice.  She  led  him  as  if  he  were 
a  little  child,  while  the  fever  raged  like  a  conflagration 
about  the  citadels  of  life.  She  walked  by  the  side  of 
the  maniac,  talking  in  a  low  soothing  tone,  over  the  long 
distance  to  her  home. 

He  followed  her  into  Carryl's  empty  room,  so  long 
unused,  and  her  father  persuaded  him  to  lie  upon  the 
cool  soft  bed,  with  the  tenderness  of  a  friend.  To  see 
this  black  appealing  face  upon  the  fine  linen  which  had 
been  one  of  the  accessories  to  Carryl's  happiness,  was 
wonderful. 

Whenever  the  surgeon  visited  the  -patient,  Aurora 
was  present,  and  her  spell  fell  over  the  sick  man.  He 
was  quiet,  very  quiet,  and  no  good  was  augured  from 
the  stillness.  If  there  was  any  remark  upon  the  un- 
usual attention  paid  to  Hokey,  it  led  to  no  endanger- 
ing speculations,  for  he  was  free,  and  an  acknowledged 
Secessionist. 

Vip's  eyes  opened  slowly.     He  saw  something,  but 

not  clearly.     He  could  not  determine  whether  to  ventil- 
18 


200  THE  EO  T  IN  BL  UK 

ate  his  suspicions,  or  let  them  sleep  a  little  longer,  and 
nurse  them  carefully.  He  wavered,  and  the  days  passed. 

Mr.  St.  Remy  grew  better  under  tho  skillful  care  of 
Aurora,  and  they  resolved  upon  an  early  attempt  at 
escape.  Aurora  discovered  one  difficulty,  greater  than 
she  knew  how  to  meet.  She  dared  not  leave  Joe,  lest 
his  wretchedness  at  desertion  should  crowd  out  the 
secret  of  his  mistress'  occupation,  into  dangerous  chan- 
nels. He  might  burden  them  if  he  went,  and  die  if  he 
remained.  Her  kindly  nature  decided. 

Hokey  recovered  rapidly  after  his  fever  passed  its 
crisis.  Vip  was  sent  home  to  enjoy  the  mastery,  during 
Hokey's  illness.  He  liked  the  power  of  place,  but  not 
the  loss  of  opportunities  to  watch  the  Farnams.  Joe 
was  a  wanderer  up  and  down  the  terrace. 

There  were  no  new  patches  of  spring  flowers  this  May. 
Here  and  there  the  neglected  earth  was  dimpled  with 
daisies,  the  children  of  last  year's  loveliness. 

Poor  Joe  gazed  down  into  their  pretty  eyes  with  a 
forlorn  expectance  of  sympathy.  Aurora  watched  his 
look,  and  her  heart  ached  for  him. 

It  was  now  the  high  festival  of  spring.  'There  was  no 
limit  to  the  luxuriance  of  the  last  day  at  Chattanooga. 
The  morning  air  was  shaken  with  song,  and  the  river 
laughed  in  the  sun,  unmindful  of  the  grief  it  bordered. 
Lookout  Mountain  was  grand  in  green  and  bronze. 
Orchard  Knob  looked  regal  in  emerald  velvet  and 
feathery  bloom. 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  207 

Missionary  Ridge  held  the  glory  of  a  rainbow  upon 
its  brow  with  all  but  the  deeper  colors  introverted. 
The  Tennessee  was  never  a-tremble  with  silver  spar- 
kles, nor  were  its  margins  clothed  and  decked  with  a  rich- 
er garniture. 

Aurora  swept  it  with  her  quick  eyes,  and  turned  away. 
Turmoil  mocked  the  quiet,  and  the  future  sneered  at 
beauty.  This  night  Home  and  they,  were  to  drift  apart 
upon  the  tide  of  Destiny,  and  would  the  sky  smile  just 
the  same,  and  the  Earth  wear  its  olden  glory  ? 

Nature  is  not  sympathetic.  Lay  your  cheek  as  close 
as  you  will  to  its  bosom,  it  does  not  throb  a  response 
to  your  caress.  When  you  are  weary  and  useless — 
when  you  have  no  longer  a  pulse  with  which  to  ask  its 
sympathy,  it  lets  you  lie  in  its  embrace,  but  another 
must  wrap  the  enfolding  arms. 

If  you  love  it,  and  need  nothing,  it  pets  you.  If  you 
claim  its  affection  when  your  heart  is  affluent  in  glad 
resources,  it  responds  generously.  If  you  implore  its 
love  when  you  are  beggared  in  your  own  heart,  it  is 
deaf  to  your  pleadings.  It  mocks  you, — it  is  relent- 
less ! 

Aurora  said  this  in  its  beautiful  face,  when  she  turned 
from  it  at  twilight,  that  last  night. 

St.  Remy  was  wonderfully  improved,  and  very  strong 
in  the  excitement  of  coming  freedom.  Hokey  was  not 
fully  himself,  but  they  dared  not  wait  for  another  old 
inoon.  The  solace  of  profound  darkness  blessed  them, 


208  THE  BOY  IX  BL  UE. 

and  the  glittering  chains  of  stars  seemed  to  have  been 
hung  higher  upon  the  forehead  of  that  night.  They 
looked  so  indifferent,  and  far  away  !  Scarce  the  small- 
est beam  touched  the  \vater  when  the  five  fugitives 
pushed  into  the  tide. 

Hokey  held  the  oars,  and  Mr.  Farnam  sat  by  the 
rudder.  St.  Remy  was  near  the  bow,  and  Joe,  bewil- 
dered, but  happy,  with  his  face  to  the  stern,  sat  in  the 
extreme  front.  Aurora  faced  her  father,  just  before 
him, — and  felt  happy  that  the  blessed  hour  had  come. 
They  pointed  their  boat  toward  the  south  very  nearly, 
intending  to  go  in  that  direction  so  long  as  the  current 
set  that  way. 

Scarcely  had  they  drifted  a  hundred  rods  from  the 
shore,  when  they  heard  other  oars,  dipping  deep  and 
strong,  and  with  no  effort  to  be  silent.  Hokey  pulled 
stronger.  Mr.  Farnam  laid  his  hand  for  a  moment  upon 
his  daughter's,  to  see  if  it  trembled.  It  was  as  quiet  as 
his  own, — quieter. 

At  his  feet  lay  a  short  rifle,  and  two  revolvers  with 
seven  lives  in  each.  At  the  bow  were  the  arms  of  Mr. 
St.  Remy.  Hokey  was  not  strong,  nor  did  he  quite  be- 
lieve the  boat  that  followed,  was,  in  any  way  interested 
in  their  movements.  Mr.  St.  Remy  took  no  note  of  the 
regular  dip,  now  but  a  length  or  two  away.  Presently 
a  strong  pull,  and  they  were  but  an  oar's  length  off,  and 
just  in  the  wake  of  the  fugitives'  little  skiff. 

"  Hold  on  dar,  tousand  dollar  traitor.     I'se  smelled 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UK  209 

ye  dis  six  months  Reckon  I'll  take  de  chink  dis  time. 
Black  or  white  man  gets  de  pay  dis  Yankee  fotches. 
Masser  Carryl  said  so.  Hold  on  !" 

Hokey  forgot  his  weakness  when  that  relentless  voice 
of  Vip's  broke  the  silence  of  that  midnight.  Long  and 
deep  were  his  oar  strokes,  but  longer  and  deeper  were 
those  that  followed,  because  three  strong  pairs  of  arms 
pulled  with  a  wicked  will. 

Aurora  faced  them  and  was  the  only  one  in  a  position 
of  defence.  ,  As  cooly  as  she  always  acted  in  an  hour  of 
danger,  she  lifted  the  rifle,  and  a  moment's  steady  level- 
ing at  the  dim  outline  close  to  their  stern — then  a  flash 
— a  sharp  ring  over  the  ripples,  and  her  enfilading  aim 
had  sent  one  or  more  of  their  pursuers  into  the  Here- 
after, where  it  is  hoped  they  will  be  judged  with 
mercy. 

A  cry  of  agony — a  plash  and  that  was  all,  till  a  gut- 
tural curse,  and  a  return  flash,  explained  that  their  bit- 
terest enemy  was  still  alive. 

Joe  fell  forward,  and  was  still..  He  had  not  spoken 
since  he  left  the  shore,  because  Aurora  had  told  him  he 
must  be  silent,  and  he  had  learned  the  lesson  of  obe- 
dience perfectly.  He  sat  in  the  high  seat  in  the  bow, 
and  his  head  had  been  the  target  of  Vip's  elevated 
aim. 

Aurora  heard  and  felt  the  fall,  but  she  did  not  know  who 
had  gone  out  from  their  little  world  of  heroic  endeav- 
ors, but  her  hand  was  steady  yet,  and  another  report, 
18* 


210  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

and  another, — then  a  dropping  of  the  last  oar,  and  a 
moan  from  the  pursuing  skiff,  with  the  continuous  dip, 
deep  and  steady,  of  Hokey,  and  they  were  half  way  over 
to  the  other  shore,  and  beginning  to  double  Moccasin 
Point.  The  sentinels  on  duty  about  the  town,  scarce 
noticed  the  sound  of  arms,  so  frequent  were  they  in  this 
lawless  spot.  St.  Remy  had  been  motionless,  because 
he  could  not  turn  without  endangering  the  directness 
of  the  fire.  He  was  neither  disturbed,  nor  fearful.  He 
had  learned  to  prefer  death  to  captivity.  To  be  sure, 
he  had  anticipated  no  harm  this  night,  but  was  looking 
into  the  mountains  before  them,  for  the  danger.  He 
lifted  poor  Joe  carefully,  and  laid  his  head  into  his  own 
blanket.  He  felt  the  warm  slippery  trickle,  and  knew 
there  was  no  hope.  Revereritly  he  thanked  God  for  this 
death,  which  was  far  better  than  life,  to  the  poor  lad, — 
better  for  them  all. 

The  first  word  that  broke  the  stillness  in  their  boat 
save  the  voices  of  the  bullets,  was  Mr.  St.  Remy's. 

"  Dead !  Poor  Joe  is  gone !  Thank  Heaven  for 
lifting  his  poor  bewildered  soul  where  it  can  see 
clearly !" 

There  was  another  long  silence,  disturbed  only  by 
Aurora's  sobs.  Not  that  she  grieved  for  Joe, — she  was 
glad  for  his  sake,  because  it  was  better  so,  and  he  had 
gone  by  so  painless  a  path — but  she  felt  the  loss  of  his 
unquestioning  affection,  and  so  few  of  the  props  of  life 
were  left  to  her.  Death,  snatching  even  the  lowliest, 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UK  21 1 

leaves  a  loss  somewhere.  True,  she  had  more  courage 
to  meet  the  future  without  him,  and  yet — and  yet,  even 
the  want  of  any  love,  however  small,  makes  life  poorer. 
The  passing  of  this  night  took  but  one  drop  from  the 
goblet,  but  oh  it  was  so  nearly  drained  ! 

Hours  afterward,  when  they  had  doubled  the  point, 
and  reached,  just  at  dawn,  the  curve  in  the  river  farthest 
north,  they  approached  the  shore,  and  not  daring  to 
make  a  grave,  St.  Remy  cast  off  his  bloody  wrappings, 
upon  which  Joe's  poor  bleeding  head  had  lain,  and  tying 
it  full  of  stones  they  fastened  it. about  the  body,  and 
gently  dropped  him  into  the  stream. 

It  covered  him  softly,  and  sung  a  requiem  ! 

"Another  sacrifice,  oh  God!  and  another  innocent 
life  upon  thy  list  of  murders,  oh  Rebellion  !  Spirit  of 
Justice,  Remember  !" 

The  grey  light  lay  upon  St.  Remy's  face,  pale  and 
saintly,  as  he  uttered  these  solemn  sentences,  and  there 
was  an  echoed  answer  from  the  shor.e,  deep,  but  positive. 
They  looked  into  each  other's  faces,  through  the  fading 
dimness,  and  believed  they  were  heard. 

The  calm  solemn  River  flowed  on,  and,  hid  the  track 
of  the  fugitives.  Hokey  did  not  suffer  the  loss  of  Joe 
as  one  would  have  supposed.  He  was  beginning  to 
loose  faith  in  his  people.  He  thought  them  unworthy 
of  liberty.  He  did  not  know  who  were  Vip's  compan- 
ions in  the  hunt  for  Mr.  St.  Remy,  but  certainly  they 
were  black.  Their  voices  proclaimed  their  blood.  Had 


212  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE. 

Vip  dared  anything  for  freedom,  he  would  have  for 
given  him  all  the  old  wrongs,  but  the  venture  for  money 
— it  was  contemptible  even  in  a  slave  !  He  almost 
hoped  that  last  ball  ended  Vip's  life,  then  there  would 
be  no  one  to  carry  back  the  tidings  of  the  contest,  and 
the  escape. 

They  drew  their  graceful  skiff,  so  laden  with  the 
memories  of  better  days,  into  the  woods,  and  buried  it 
in  a  hollow  with  last  year's  leaves,  and  left  it  with  last 
year's  hopes. 

They  breakfasted  upon  the  still  shore,  and  started 
north-westerly.  Slowly,  for  the  miles  were  long  be- 
cause of  the  beautiful  Cumberland  hills  that  were  be- 
tween them,  and  the  Federal  lines ;  and  so  high,  and 
the  days  so  warm,  and  the  nights  so  dangerous  in  the 
pathless  country.  Not  that  either  looked  backward. 
It  was  a  better  life  than  they  had  lived  for  many  months. 
Mr.  St.  Remy  was  jubilant.  His  genial  self  came  back 
in  the  sunshine,  and  he  threw  it  over  the  group. 
Hokey  was  weary  but  hopeful,  when  he  could  put  aside 
the  consciousness  of  his  color, — the  degredation  it 
signified,  to  him  this  day. 

He  need  not  have  felt  that  wickedness  belonged  to 
his  race,  if  he  had  deployed  his  reflections  over  the 
southern  slopes,  and  tropical  hillsides.  There  were 
men  with  white  faces  even  at  the  North — that  spot 
where  he  supposed*  virtue  lived,  who  bore  blacker  hearts 
than  he  had  ever  seen  look  out  of  African  eves.  He 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  213 

did  not  know  this  yet,  or  he  would  have  had  less  cour- 
age to  drag  his  weak  and  weary  limbs  up  the  moun 
tains. 

They  dared  not  take  the  highways  yet,  they  were  so 
near  home — Home  !  This  was  a  word  too  full  of  tears 
to  be  spoken,  and  so  they  only  called  it  Chattanooga. 

There  were  shady  resting  places,  and  they  were 
peaceful  because  even  their  small  outfit  was  burden- 
some. Hokey  and  Mr.  Farnam  each  carried  a  rifle. 
Aurora  wore  her  reloaded  revolvers  in  her  girdle  under 
her  repellant  mantle,  and  each  carried  a  small  package. 

Before  midday  they  were  all  asleep  in  the  shadow  and 
shelter  of  the  mountains — under  the  great  uplifted 
heads  which  looked  into  their  Promised  Land.  The 
trees  swayed  over  them,  and  reached  out  welcoming 
arms  to  them,  but  they  heard  nothing  for  the  deep  rest 
that  was  breathed  into  their  hunted  lives.  Not  a  fear 
crept  after  them.  They  felt  the  Invisible  leading  them, 
and  believed  the  cloud  by  day,  and  pillar  by  night 
would  guide  them.  Food  they  could  bring  down  with 
their  rifles  from  the  air,  if  they  dared  risk  the  answer- 
ing echoes.  Replies  might  come  from  unwelcome 
sources.  They  had  thought  of  all  these  things,  and 
prepared  supplies  of  condensed  food,  small,  but  capable 
of  keeping  life  a  long  time.  Hope  and  excitement  held 
the  thought  of  future  requirements  in  subjection.  They 
traversed  but  a  short  distance  by  every  day's  hot  sun, 


214  THE  BO  7  IN  BL  UK 

and  there  was  no  moon  to  help  them  by  night.  The 
earlier  and  latter  portion  of  the  hours  were  spent  in 
pushing  on,  but  they  became  wearisome  after  the  first 
strangeness  wore  away. 

The  first  three  nights  were  as  comfortable  as  sleep 
could  be  in  an  unsheltered  bed,  with  no  pillow,  and  but 
scanty  covering.  The  warmth  of  the  season  favored 
present  comfort,  but  added  to  the  danger  of  future 
fevers.  They  had  not  yet  encountered  a  human  face, 
though  dwellings  here  and  there  dotted  the  distance. 
The  noon  halts  grew  longer,  and  the  Sequatchie  curling 
its  length  between  them  and  Murfreesboro  made  the 
distance  and  weariness  seem  greater.  They  would  have 
glowed  with  pleasure  at  a  sight  of  its  silver  beauty,  if 
their  hearts  had  not  grown  so  heavy. 

Pneumonia  gave  sharp  hints  of  an  intended  attack, 
but  they  resisted  it  by  fierce  willfulness.  With  such  an 
enemy  hunting  them,  it  was  hardly  safe  to  attempt  ford- 
ing the  stream,  even  if  a  sufficiently  shallow  spot  could 
be  found.  Miles  lay  between  them,  and  a  bridged 
crossing,  but  there  were  ferries  all  along  the  margin. 
These  were  only  scows,  or  punts,  and  were  always 
kept  locked  to  their  moorings  at  night,  and  whoever 
roused  Charon  at  this  hour  must  quadruple  the  fee, 
before  the  key  would  set  the  ugly  craft  afloat.  They 
resolved  upon  a  forcible  possession,  and  then  voluntary 
compensation  to  quiet  their  scruples.  Scruples  are  very 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  215 

inconvenient  under  such  circumstances.  In  fact,  con- 
science seemed  to  have  become  a  luxury  they  could  not 
afford. 

This  night  they  ate  their  small  portion  of  supper  and 
curled  down  upon  the  brow  of  a  hill  overlooking  a 
ferryman's  boat  and  waited.  There  was  no  other 
habitation  within  sight,  and  they  resolved  to  procure 
the  boat,  without  stir  if  possible,  but  felt  safe,  if  compul- 
sion became  necessary. 

Weakness  and  weariness  produced  sleep,  even  before 
all  the  stars  had  broken  into  the  coming  darkness. 

Night  is  the  African's  necromancer.  Hokey  the 
good,  and  true,  was  a  coward  when  the  day  was  over. 
He  always  crept  as  close  as  he  dare  to  his  white  friends 
in  their  lonely  bivouacs,  and  sometimes  he  found  his 
eyes  very  obstinate,  when  he  wished  them  closed  to  the 
funereal  moss  that  swung  its  long  censers  into  the  dark, 
and  made  him  remember  one  of  his  own  color  who  was 
once  a  refugee,  and  captured.  He  was  a  noble  fellow, 
and  very  valuable.  His  master  would  not  punish  him 
too  much,  because  it  would  lessen  his  worth.  The 
planters  in  the  vincinity  contributed  to  purchase  him, 
and  then  suspended  him  by  the  neck  until  he  was  dead. 
They  brought  out  their  gangs  of  slaves  to  witness  the 
display.  Mr.  St.  Remy  did  not  send  his  servants,  nor 
was  he  invited  to  the  spectacle.  It  was  understood  that 
his  tastes  did  not  incline  him  to  cruelty,  or  severity,  even 
before  the  strong  line  of  distinction  was  drawn  between 


216  THE  SOT  IN  BL UE. 

himself  and  his  old  friends.  Hokey  was  free,  and  a  mor- 
bid curiosity  had  led  him  to  the  execution.  The  sight 
left  ten  years  on  his  brain,  and  heart.  These  great 
trees  had  always  seemed  full  of  the  swinging  ghosts  of 
his  murdered  people,  as  they  looked  down  through  the 
night,  but  this  evening  by  the  ferry,  he  drowsed  early. 
After  a  few  hours,  Aurora  awoke  with  the  dull  weary 
pain  which  always  opened  her  eyes  in  the  woods,  and 
saw  but  a  step  away  a  group  of  people  about  a  low  fire. 
Women  are  said  to  scream  upon  all  remarkable 
occasions.  That  is  the  way  the  books  record  their  con- 
duct, but  Aurora  was  silent.  She  did  not  stir.  She 
scarcely  breathed  with  the  intensity  of  curiosity  and 
admiration.  The  picture  was  so  weird,  and  the  faces 
so  earnest,  as  the  blaze  lit  their  bronze  cheeks  and  glit- 
tering eyes.  They  looked  out  into  the  darkness 
toward  the  river,  as  if  they  were  about  to  smother  the 
blaze  that  warmed  their  evening  meal,  and  attempt  the 
crossing.  Their  conversation  was  low,  as  if  from  cus- 
tom and  not  from  present  fear.  The  Magnolia  leaves 
and  the  festoons  of  grey  moss,  and  the  scream  of  the 
night  birds  roused  into  terror  by  the  smoke,  and  glare 
of  embers,  combined  to  fascinate  the  gaze  of  the  girl. 
She  saw  the  whole,  but  singled  no  one  of  them  there 
for  special  scrutiny,  until  by  an  intensity  of  will,  she 
seemed  to  stretch  her  power  of  comprehension  be\  ond 
the  usual  laws  of  hearing. 

"  I  do  not  believe  they  have  crossed  this  river.     The 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  HE.  o \ 7 

young  lady  has  too  much  wisdom  to  risk  the  effect  of 
wet  clothing  on  such  a  march.  Her  father  would  not 
permit  it.  Besides,  the  colored  boy  was  fearfully  sick 
the  last  any  one  knew  of  him,  and  fevers  are  not  blotted 
out  of  anybody  in  a  fortnight.  I  tell  you,  they  are 
somewhere  this  side  the  Sequatchie  to-night.  To-morrow 
ray  furlough  is  up,  and  then  !  O,  I  can't  relinquish  the 
hope  quite  yet.  It  would  be  too  terrible  to  bear." 

The  horror  of  Aurora,  when  she  felt  almost  sure  they 
were  pursued,  the  quick  change  to  a  certainty  that 
friends  followed  them,  when  even  the  word  friend,  asso- 
ciated with  earthly  assistance,  had  almost  faded  from  her 
thoughts,  was  too  much  for  her  poor  worn  heart,  and 
with  a  little  stir  of  grateful  sound,  she  lay  back  again 
upon  her  bed  of  damp  leaves. 

The  bronzed  men  started,  and  the  rubber  coats  that 
withstood  the  heavy  mountain  dews,  fell  back,  and  three 
Union  soldier's  stood  up,  and  grasped  their  arms. 

Presently  one  lifted  a  lighted  brand,  and  with  his  fel- 
lows, followed  the  rustle.  A  little  apart,  lay  the  dark 
outline  of  a  woman's  dress,  and  figure.  Between  this, 
and  themselves  lay  three  men,  and  as  the  torch  ap-- 
preached  their  faces, — not  too  near,  there  was  no  recog- 
nition, because  sleep  so  changes  the  expression. 

Then  the  blaze  was  held  close   to   the  face  of  the 
woman.     Slowly  so  as  not  to  startle  her  by  the  sudden 
light,  the  torch  approached.     Life,  which  had  for  one 
19 


218  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE. 

startled  moment  left  the  worn,  but  still  strong  heart, 
came  back,  and  she  held  her  eyelids  down  till  she  had 
given  hurried  earnest  thanks  to  Heaven  for  help,  then 
she  slowly  opened  them  to  meet  her  friends. 

"Berny  St.  Remy,  God  sent  you,  when  our  need  was 
sorest,"  and  she  reached  up  her  thin  cold  hand,  and  he 
lifted  her  from  her  uncomfortable  bed.  Neither  of  the 
brawny  sleepers  stirred.  The  dew  was  venomous,  and 
the  miasma  from  the  old  slimy  leaves  in  their  hiding 
places  sent  up  stupifying  odors.  Berny  St.  Remy  let 
them  sleep  on  while  Aurora  sat  by  the  fire,  with  the 
stars  smiling  through  the  deep  green  openings  above, 
telling  him  something  of  the  year's  happenings,  —  all 
could  not  be  told, — and  then  begged  to  know  how  they 
could  be  in  the  Confederacy  with  Union  uniforms. 

"  We  are  here  to  get  tidings  of  our  friends.  I  have 
learned  nothing  of  my  sister,"  and  his  voice  quivered 
as  he  said  the  sweet  name  of  the  relationship.  "  She 
tried  to  enter  the  Confederacy  a  year  ago  nearly,  so  I 
learned  by  accident,  and  nothing  has  since  been  heard 
of  her.  I  will  not  believe  she  is  an  angel — up  there — 
though  she  was  one  here.  Not  a  word  have  I  heard  of 
my  father  these  many,  many  months,  and  though  coun- 
try is  dear  to  a  man,  blood  will  be  heard  when  it  throbs 
to  such  a  love  as  my  father's  and  mine.  I  only  learned 
from  the  most  careful  gleaning  where  we  personated 
deserters,  in  farm  houses  a  few  miles  out  from  Chatta- 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  219 

nooga,  that  my  father  left  there  last  autumn.  The  town 
was  wild  with  your  exodous,  and  that  of  your  father 
and  Ilokey.  Who  is  the  other  white  man  ?" 

Aurora  had  been  looking  among  her  womanly  re- 
sources for  a  gentle  way  of  relieving  the  tension  of  sor- 
row that  was  breaking  Berny's  heart,  but  had  not  yet 
found  just  the  one. 

"  He  is  a  Union  man,  who  has  been  living  in  a  hole  in 
Lookout  Bluff  for  some  time  past,  and  we  brought  him 
here.  Who  did  they  tell  you  escaped  ?" 

"  Only  yourself,  Father,  Hokey,  and  the  foolish  boy, 
Joe,  were  mentioned  as  missing.  Other  colored  boys 
are  gone,  and  two  of  them  were  free.  There  is  a  hor- 
rible suspicion  associated  with  your  escape.  My  own 
old  boat  floated  on  shore  at  Moccasin  Point  with  poor 
Vip  lying  in  the  bottom,  with  a  minnie  rifle  shot  through 
his  jaw,  and  though  he  may  recover,  he  cannot  speak, 
and  report  said  he  would  probably  never  tell  the  tale 
fully,  unless  he  was  taught  to  write.  I  fancy  the  secret 
is  safe,  if  curiosity  or  justice  waits  for  that,"  and  a  grim 
smile  drifted  over  the  speaker's  face. 

The  eagle  gleam  was  fierce  in  Berny's  eyes  during 
this  moment's  pause,  and  Aurora  knew  his  mind  wan- 
dered to  some  far  off  spot,  where  he  imagined  his  lost 
family  were  waiting,  and  longing  for  him.  Then  his 
softer  look  came  back. 

"  We  supposed  you  would  take  this  route  to  reach 
the  Federal  camp,  and  I  believe  the  angels  guided  us. 


OOQ  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK 

Had  you  been  awake  you  would  have  hidden  from  our 
approach." 

"  Poor,  lost  Remy !"  said  Aurora,  endeavoring  to 
bring  his  thoughts  back  to  himself  and  family. 

"  The  thought  of  her  drives  all  the  human  out  of  my 
heart.  That  she  has  been  forced  from  Northern  homes, 
by  secret  incendiaries,  is  all  that  Mrs  Berry,  her  friend, 
and  protector,  can  tell  me.  She  is  a  refugee,  and  a 
wanderer, — the  sweet  child,  and  I — My  God  !  I  car  not 
help  her — I  cannot  find  her  in  this  whirl  of  demons. 
Hell  has  no  fires  sufficient  for  the  punishment  of  my 
country's  enemies !" 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  like  a 
heart-broken  woman. 

Aurora  let  him  weep  awhile,  for  it  was  easing  hie 
poor  strained  heart. 

At  length  she  said  : 

"  Did  you  observe  no  look  your  memory  has  kept,  in 
that  face  nearest  us,  with  the  iron  grey  hair  ?" 

He  looked  again  after  stirring  the  fire  to  a  blaze,  and 
shook  his  head. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  the  instinct  of  blood,  or  natural 
affection  ?" 

He  seized  a  brand,  and  looked  eagerly  into  the  pale, 
sharp  face,  tossed  the  torch  back  into  the  heap  of  coals, 
and  buried  his  own  again  in  his  hands. 

For  a  few  moments,  he  swayed  backward  and  for- 
ward in  his  kneeling  posture,  and  big  sobs  pulsed  up 


THE  }iO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  221 

from  his  deep  well  ot  grateful  joy,  and  then  slowly  died 
into  a  profound  calm  His  comrades  lifted  their  glazed 
caps,  and  held  them  before  their  eyes,'  as  a  man  does  in 
a  holy  spot,  with  involuntary  reverence. 

The  son  did  not  trouble  that  deep  sleeper  then,  but 
came  back  to  Aurora  for  explanation.  She  only  told 
him  that  his  father's  life  was  unsafe,  and  turned  her  face 
into  the  darkness  when  she  uttered  the  shameful  truths, 
and  added  that  Hokey  had  taken  him  to  the  Bluff,  and 
with  her  family's  assistance  had  furnished  food. 

Nothing  more  could  she  say.  She  did  not  feel  that 
she  had  been  a  spirit  of  mercy,  and  the  saviour  of  this 
precious  life.  The  thought  had  never  shaped  itself  in 
this  fashion,  and  yet  she  blushed  for  the  first  time  when 
the  truth  was  to  be  put  in  words,  and  so  left  the  reality 
unsaid. 

It  was  past  midnight,  and  they  were  to  cross  the 
Sequatchie  Ferry  before  light. 

Aurora  roused  her  party,  and  broke  the  pleasant 
tidings — which  seemed  like  romance — that  friends  were 
at  the  crossing — three  Union  soldiers,  who  would  see 
them  over  the  river. 

They  were  hardly  able  to  rise,  till  this  electrical  news 
startled  their  blood,  and  then  with  eager  questions 
which  she  could  not  answer,  they  followed  her  down  the 
steep  pathway. 

The  ferry  man  was  half  dressed,  and  with  a  lantern 

by  his  side,  unmooring  the  scow.     By  the  tiny  gleam, 
19* 


222  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE. 

Aurora  saw  a  revolver  in  the  hand  of  Berny  St.  Remy, 
following  every  motion  of  the  boatman.  The  same  ray 
from  the  lamp  darted  under  his  own  clearly  cut  brows, 
and  she  beheld  something  beneath  their  beetling  cliffs 
of  thought,  that  was  strangely  at  variance  with  the 
gentle  eyes  she  remembered  in  the  summer  houses  at 
"  Cairngorm."  It  startled  her,  but  it  was  a  pleasant 
sensation.  That  look  told  her  that  he  was  unconquera- 
ble. He  would  live  a  victor,  or  die  as  did  Arnold  De 
Winckelried  at  Sempach. 

Sullenly,  and  silently,  the  Ferryman  pulled  them 
over.  When  his  boat  was  no  longer  of  use  to  the  fugi- 
tives, Berny  said  to  the  secessionist :  "  Your  service 
deserves  no  compensation,  but  here  is  payment.  Not 
for  bringing  myself  over,  do  I  owe  you  anything,  except 
what  you  would  have  given  me, — a  rifle  bail."  His 
voice  was  so  round  and  full,  and  so  stern  too,  that 
neither  his  father  or  Hokey  heard  Berny  in  its  tones. 

They  walked  on  through  the  darkness  together, 
southern  courtesy  forbidding  too  close  questioning. 
Berny  was  by  his  father's  side,  and  observing  his  weary 
motion,  he  offered  his  arm,  and  it  was  accepted.  After 
a  little  time  the  hand  was  withdrawn  because  Mr.  St. 
Remy  felt  a  tremulous  motion  to  the  young  soldier's 
arm  that  he  supposed  meant  weariness. 

"  I  am  strong.  Oblige  me  by  leaning  upon  my  arm," 
the  young  man  said,  but  the  intonations  of  his  voice 
contradicted  the  assertion,  and  did  not  accord  with  the 


TEE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  223 

full  strong  tones  at  the  ferry.  The  arm  was,  however, 
taken  again,  but  the  trembling  increased. 

"  Have  you  a  son,  sir  ?" 

"  God  knows,  but  I  don't.  He  was  fighting  for  his 
country,  when  I  heard  of  him  last.  He  is  a  noble  lad, 
and  your  voice  and  manner  are  so  like  his,  just  now  !  I 
wonder  if  you  look  like  him,  also.  I  have  observed 
that  voices  of  similar  tone,  were  almost  always  shaped 
to  similar  expressions  of  face,  if  not  similar  features.  I 
wish  it  was  daylight,  I  would  love  to  look  at  a  Union 
soldier." 

"  When  the  sun  comes  up,  I  will  show  you  a  young 
man  from  Chattanooga,  in  a  Federal  suit  of  glorious 
true  blue.  Speak  his  name — my father  !" 

Two  of  the  group  loitered,  and  longed  for  the  morn- 
ing in  the  east.  It  had  already  a  dawning  in  their 
souls. 

Mr.  St.  Remy  did  not  again  withdraw  his  arm.  He 
comprehended  the  quiver  now,  and  it  was  gladness 
which  he  had  mistaken  for  weakness. 

The  two  advanced  soldiers  understood  foraging. 
Neither  attempted  to  justify  to  their  own  consciences 
the  forcible  possession  of  breakfast.  It  was  taken  from 
the  white  linen  cloth  of  a  small  planter,  and  borne  into 
the  mountain  in  convenient  vessels,  all  of  which  were 
paid  for,  at  the  just  estimate  of  the  procurers.  From 
the  quantity  captured,  the  original  possessor  must  have 


224  THE  BOJ  IN  BL  HE. 

imagined  half  a  regiment  lay  under  the  jutting  point  in 
the  mountain. 

Hokey  seemed  cheered  in  his  expression,  but  fear- 
fully exhausted  in  every  motion  of  his  brawny  limbs. 
His  huge  chest  lifted  and  fell  painfully,  but  he  uttered 
no  complaint.  When  the  forward  group  halted,  and 
the  St.  Remy  party  came  up,  Hokey  was  roused.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  with  the  old  merry  African 
laugh,  which  rang  round  the  rocks,  pulled  off  his  slouch 
of  a  hat,  to  his  young  master.  He  always  would  use 
the  term  of  possession  when  speaking  of  him,  and  now 
he  had  rather  be  owned  than  not. 

Berny  took  his  hand,  and  said  with  an  earnest  grip, 
and  tone : 

"  Hokey  you  are  a  man,  and  my  friend  now,  and  as 
such,  I  thank  you  for  my  father's  sake.  Hereafter, 
whatever  there  is,  that  brother  can  do  for  brother,  I  will 
gladly  do  for  you." 

"  Please  to  don't,  oh  please  to  don't.  I  feels  like  I 
would  love  to  die  now  afore  the  dream  goes.  I  knows 
I  isn't  awake,  or  the  fever  has  come  back,  or  sumfin." 

"  No,  it  is  only  me,  Abernethy  St.  Remy  come  back, 
and  no  fever  at  all,  only  '  sumfin  ! ' ' 

"Ise  awake  now,  sure.  You'se  allus  a  talkin'  like 
dat  are.  De  kingdom's  comin',  and  bringin'  you  from 
de  mountain  top,  or  de  stars,  dat  skeered  me  like  mad, 
when  I  went  to  sleep  up  dar.  I  seed  all  de  sperrits  in 


'THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  225 

Jem  hangin'  mosses,  last  night,  but  I  didn't  seed  you, 
so  I  guess  yer's  live  as  anybody,  cept  Joe,  and  he's 
shot,  and  dead,  and  killed,  and  den  wounded,  arter  dat. 
O  my !  O  my  !"  Here  Hokey's  nervous  excitement, 
which  caused  him  to  forget  his  usual  respectful  address 
to  his  superiors,  ebbed,  and  the  tears  flowed  in  their 
stead. 

A  little  brandy  from  his  old  master's  canteen,  and 
by-and-by  nourishing  food,  made  him  almost  himself 
again. 

"  Ky !  Masser  Berny,  dis  is  mighty  like  Lijah's 
brokfust,  dat  de  birds  brought  him.  Nebber  hear'm 
tell,  if  dey  bring  de  gridiron,  or  fotch  em  all  briled. 
De  ravens  be  black  birds,  and  I  spect  dat  are's  de  rea- 
son we  darkies  knows  how  to  fix  de  dinners,  but  de 
white  birds  brings  it  dis  time,  sure." 

On  the  whole  it  was  a  cheerful  breakfast  party. 
Because  the  other  soldiers  were  Unionists,  was  reason 
sufficient  for  a  deep  interest  in  them  to  grow  up  in  the 
hearts  of  all. 

Briscoe  was  a  widow's  son,  and  on  his  brief  visit 
home  at  night,  he  learned  that  she  was  asleep  upon  the 
side  of  a  green  hill,  just  away  from  the  tramp  of  the 
secession  soldiery.  He  knew  sorrow  had  worn  away 
her  frail  hold  upon  life,  and  he  was  glad  her  pain  was 
ended,  but  there  was  no  one  to  love  him  any  more,  and 
he  could  not  put  by  the  loneliness  that  was  following 
him  back  to  the  Federal  field. 


226  THE  BO  Y  IX  ML  UE. 

Fernando  Otto,  the  comrade,  visited  Chattanooga, 
because  his  family  had  been  driven  away,  and  he  had  a 
longing  to  go  back,  and  look  at  the  old  spot,  and  see  if 
some  one,  sweet-eyed,  and  pretty,  that  he  knew,  and 
dreamed  about,  cared  for  him  still.  He  risked  much  to 
learn  how  her  heart  throbbed,  and  he  had  come  back 
with  a  softer  look  in  his  eye,  and  a  happiness  in  his 
face  which  he  tried  to  keep  back  in  the  presence  of 
Briscoe's  grief,  and  Berny's  wretchedness.  He  knew 
that  while  he  had  been  listening  to  the  softest  voice  he 
ever  heard,  Briscoe  leaned  over  a  grave  on  the  damp 
hill  side,  leaving  tears  such  as  fall,  thank  God  !  but  once 
in  a  life  time. 

There  was  a  long,  long  tramp  for  the  day  after  the 
reunion.  The  distance,  and  the  heat,  to  hinder  their 
nearing  Murfreesboro  in  time  to  be  within  the  limit  of 
their  furloughs,  and  their  unwillingness  to  part  on  the 
way,  began  to  occupy  their  thoughts  and  give  them 
anxiety.  Another  night  alone,  was  not  much  with  a 
certainty  of  safety  at  last,  but  there  were  Guerrillas 
flocking  along  the  route.  They  had  seen  them  skirting 
the  mountain  many  times.  About  noon,  when  they 
could  travel  no  longer,  they  seated  themselves  upon  the 
brow  of  a  small  hill,  shaded  by  magnolias,  and  barri- 
caded by  laurel,  through  which  they  could  view  the 
road,  just  a  few  feet  below. 

There  was  not  a  plantation  within  range  of  their 
perch,  but  twice,  groups  of  Jayhawkers  passed. 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  JJE.  227 

Berny  went  higher  up  for  a  lookout.  He  could  fol- 
low the  valley  with  his  glass  for  miles,  and  nothing 
alive  met  his  eye,  except  a  small  party  of  plunderers  on 
horse. 

His  determination  was  quickly  formed.  There  were 
not  more  than  ten  of  them  on  their  way.  Going  be- 
low, he  laid  open  his  scheme  hurriedly,  and  begged 
Miss  Farnam  to  retire  farther  within  the  dusky  shadows 
of  the  trees. 

"  Not  if  I  can  do  service.     Is  a  Guerrilla  a  man  ?" 

"  No,  Aurora,  but  you  might  be  harmed." 

"  Give  me  the  revolver  you  took  from  me  at  day- 
light, and  I  will  not  use  it,  unless  I  must." 

She  went  to  a  curve  over  a  turn  in  the  road  just 
beyond,  and  waited. 

Each  soldier  was  to  take  the  man  who  corresponded 
to  the  position,  in  which  the  six  men  formed,  and  aim 
steadily.  A  sharp  ring  and  flash,  and  four  men  fell. 
The  horses  leaped  forward,  and  stopped.  One  fell,  and 
the  others,  great  muscular  creatures,  halted.  The  un- 
harmed riders  spurred  their  animals  on,  for  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  or  so,  then  halted  and  turned  back,  coming  cau- 
tiously near  the  curve  in  the  bridle  path,  with  an  appar- 
ent determination  of  dashing  into  the  ambuscade,  to 
have  revenge. 

Aurora  parted  the  laurel  as  she  saw  the  advancing 
peril,  and  fired.  Another  fell,  and  just  behind,  stood 
her  father,  with  his  rifle  reloaded,  and  the  bewildered 


228  THE  BO  ¥  IN  BL  HE. 

Rebels  were  in  range.  They  could  not  turn,  for  the  way 
was  too  narrow.  They  threw  down  their  useless  rifles 
in  token  of  submisssion,  and  surrendered  to  a  company 
of  six  men  and  a  woman ! 

O  their  sullen  anger,  when  they  counted  their  captors, 
and  one  a  negro ! 

It  was  too  late.  They  were  captives.  The  disarm- 
ed prisoners  were  marched  before  their  captors  to  Mur- 
freesboro,  which  they  reached  next  day,  at  nightfall. 
Berny  St.  Remy  knew  that  his  capture  would  palliate 
the  offence  of  remaining  beyond  his  furlough,  and  it  was 
made  a  matter  of  thankful-ness,  because  he  had  lessened 
the  number  of  lawless  men.  Two  of  them  were  crip- 
pled for  life,  and  five  were  led  to  the  martial  prison. 
Aurora  ministered  to  the  wants  of  the  wounded  rebels, 
and  was  grateful  because  she  was  spared  the  memory 
of  having  taken  life,  even  from  so  wicked  a  service. 
Every  kindness  that  a  military  post  could  bestow  was 
given  to  the  escaped  Unionists.  Aurora  and  her  father 
performed  hospital  duty,  and  Mr.  St.  Remy  entered  the 
army  by  the  side  of  his  son. 

True  chivalry  were  they — soldiers — gentlemen  and 
Christians. 


THE  BO  T  IN  £L  UE.  229 


.  CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHY    REMT    ST.    KEMT    DISAPPEARED. 

"  Wo  have  a  true  and  tender  clasp, 
For  Freedom's  friends  where'er  their  home ; 

And  for  her  foes  as  grim  a  grasp, 
No  matter  when,  or  whence  they  come." 

WHILE  the  summer  grew  glorious  with  her  own 
beauty,  and  draped  her  fields  with  flowers,  deeper  hued, 
because  of  the  purple  drops  which  the  lips  of  mother 
earth  drank  out  of  rich  hearts  to  nourish  their  growth 
of  loveliness,  the  red  rain  continued  to  fall. 

Colonel  Berry  had  won  laurels  and  worn  them  under 
our  own  flag  at  New  Orleans.  There  had  been  a  fierce 
contest  between  inclination  and  duty  when  he  took  his 
regiment  to  this  southern  post.  He  desired  a  south- 
western position,  but  not  this.  His  patriotism  was 
stronger  than  ever,  but  he  was  human  enough  to  be  un- 
happy because  he  was  not  in  Tennessee.  He  fancied 
Remy  St.  Remy  hovered  about  the  border,  only 
just  beyond  the  Rebel  lines,  and  there  was  a  chance  of 
meeting,  but  then  he  had  promised  too  many  in  New 
England  to  watch  over  son,  husband,  and  brother,  who 
went  out  into  the  wild  warfare  under  his  command. 
20 


230  1HE  SOY  IN  BL  UK 

He  must  stay  with  his  own,  unless  the  fate  of  the  field 
separated  them.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  hear 
but  one  adviser, — his  own  soul — and  he  never  dis- 
obeyed. 

Strange  stories  reached  him  in  the  winter,  just  before 
embarking  for  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  A  man 
had  died  at  the  village  near  his  home,  after  a  prolonged 
illness,  and  left  singular  confessions  in  the  ears  of  the 
gossip  loving  people.  He  said  he  was  there  at  first 
under  heavy  pay.  He  was  to  drive  a  southern  girl  out 
of  the  protection  of  any  northern  family  who  might  be- 
friend her.  Her  name  was  Remy  St.  Remy,  and  his 
employer  was  a  rebel  officer.  He  was  to  burn  every 
house  that  sheltered  her,  and  force  her  to  join  her  own 
people.  He  said  he  met  her  once,  and  she  wore  the 
face  of  his  mother's  patron  saint,  the  very  same  that  was 
pictured  over  the  altar,  in  the  little  church  where  he 
prayed,  before  he  knew  what  a  prison  meant.  He  was 
fixed  with  a  motionless  awe  as  she  approached  him  in 
one  of  those  beautiful  solitary  paths  by  the  sea,  because 
he  thought  her  a  spirit  come  to  rebuke  him.  His  face 
must  have  told  his  terror,  for  she  spoke  gently  to  him, 
and  offered  aid  in  her  own  angelic  way,  supposing  him 
ill.  When  his  words  came,  he  only  thanked  her,  but 
that  night  he  vowed,  as  he  hoped  for  Heaven,  to  spare 
the  poor  girl  who  had  brought  the  old  thoughts  back, 
and  spoken  so  like  a  forgiving  saint  to  him.  The  next 
morning  he  found  her  again  in  the  park,  and  baring  his 


THE  £07  IN  BLUE.  231 

head  in  her  sweet  presence,  told  her  the  truth.  He  said 
she  turned  white  as  the  lilies  she  held  in  her  hand,  and 
thanked  him.  Then  she  besought  him  to  promise  her 
to  follow  a  better  life,  and  he  gave  his  oath  by  the 
blessed  virgin  to  be  an  honest  Christian  man,  always, — 
and  he  had  kept  his  word. 

She  offered  him  money,  but  he  could  not  take  it.  He 
gave  his  unearned  gold  to  the  poor  box  of  the  church. 

A  few  days  after  he  learned  that  his  angel  had  gone, 
and  he  knew  it  was  because  she  feared  some  other  mes- 
senger might  make  Mrs.  Berry  homeless. 

The  Colonel  writhed  under  the  fancies  which  haunted 
him  after  this  time.  He  feared  everything.  He  knew 
the  villain  who  persecuted  this  child-Unionist,  and  had 
seen  his  name  in  southern  prints,  coupled  with  deeds 
which  Rebels  called  heroic. 

If  she  reached  Chattanooga  what  was  her  fate  ?  He 
dared  not  think  of  it.  If  she  was  within  our  lines, 
would  her  enemy  find  her,  and  follow  her  with  villainy  ? 
Sometimes  his  sleep  was  haunted  by  her  pale  suffering 
face,  and  sometimes  he  saw  her  an  angel,  safe  and  within 
the  peaceful  Fields  of  Eden.  He  was  willing  she  should 
be  in  some  sheltered  grave,  but  not  a  wanderer.  He 
knew  her  great  soul  too  well  to  believe  she  would  peril 
any  one  by  her  hunted  presence.  Her  income  was 
easily  convertible  to  any  form,  and  he  could  not  trace 
her  by  this,  even  if  he  had  freedom  to  follow.  He  was 
maddened,  tortured  almost  to  frenzy,  and  yet  wore  the 


232  TOM  BO  Y  IN  BL  US. 

calm  of  a  sleeping  volcano  in  the  still  twilight.  The 
fear  that  stirred  and  tortured  him,  gave  as  yet,  no  out- 
ward sign,  but  time  seemed  remorseless,  yet  it  was  not. 
It  brought  him  stern  duties  in  wretched,  sinning  New 
Orleans,  and  he  was  glad  to  drown  every  one  of  the 
hydra  fancies  out  of  his  brain. 

Among  the  many  crowding  changes  in  that  city,  some 
strange  things  crept  into  his  vocations.  He  felt  the  de- 
lirium of  success — just  a  whirl  or  so,  and  entered  deter- 
minately  upon  the  innovations  which  Federal  rule 
brought  to  the  people.  His  labors  were  neither  few  nor 
easy,  and  he  was  grateful  for  this.  Sometimes1  his  ten- 
derness stood  between  guilt  and  justice,  but  he  always 
tried  to  crush  it  down.  Sometimes  he  wore  a  touch  of 
mercy  in  the  awarding  of  punishments.  He  stood  firm- 
ly against  depredations  upon  the  sanctity  of  personal 
possessions.  He  was  not  zealous  enough  to  procure 
preferment,  where  riot  was  mistaken  for  patriotism,  and 
so  here  upon  the  harvest  ground  of  pillage,  he  was  sim- 

i 

ply  himself,  a  Christian  soldier,  with  not  a  trophy  to 
prove  that  he  was  one  of  the  captors  of  this  rich 
city. 

His  surgeon  still  spoke  of  him  among  his  brother 
officers — as,  "  Old  Abe's  one  proof  of  Christianity," 
and  not  a  lip  smiled  at  the  quaint  expression,  because  it 
was  so  true. 

"  He  did  not  stoop  till  blind,  for  place  and  pelf; 
His  whole  life  burned  a  sacrifice  of  self." 


TEE  BOY  IN  EL  UE.  233 

One  such  soldier  leads  the  hearts  and  lives  of  many 
of  his  fellows,  thank  Heaven  ! 

There  is  a  wake  of  light  following  Colonel  Kerry's 
career,  which  shall  drag  itself  through  the  better  leaves 
of  our  country's  history,  to  touch  with  fairer  tints  the 
blacker  truths  of  to-day. 

He  believed  in  conquering  our  enemies,  but  supposed 
men  were  above  the  habits  of  locusts,  and  not  made  to 
desolate,  after  a  triumph.  9 

"  Ah,  let  the  Peacemen  preach,  but  let  our  Peace 
Be  Right  victorious,  not  triumphant  Wrong." 

Among  the  Freedmen  whose  wants  he  was  relieving, 
one  fine  fellow  mentioned  his  master  in  Chattanooga 
who  had  sent  him  south  for  safety,  and  the  Colonel 
eagerly  asked  for  the  St.  Remys,  and  learned  that  all 
the  household  had  fled  from  the  town.  This  meagre  bit 
of  information  was  to  last  him  for  a  year !  If  the  St. 
Remys  were  North,  his  mother  would  know,  and  she 
did  not.  They  were  wanderers,  he  thought,  in  the 
wretched  confederacy,  and  if  he  could  only  fight  his  way 
to  them,  when  New  Orleans  was  crushed  in  its  heart, 
as  it  was  subjugated  externally ! 

20* 


234  THE  BO  r  IN  RL  UK 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LOVE'S       MUSKETRY. 

"  We  have  dashed  together  like  waves,  and  rocks ! 

We  have  fought  tilfour  steels  grew  red! 
We  have  met  in  the  shuddering  battle  shocks, 

Where  none  but  the  freed  soul  fled! 
Now  side  by  side  in  the  fields  of  fate 
.  And  shoulder  to  shoulder  are  we  ; 

And  we  know  by  the  grip  of  our  hands  in  hate, 

What  the  strength  of  our  love  might  be." 

THE  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  went  by,  and  the 
Grand  Army  of  West  Tennessee  had  surged  its  way 
through  evacuated  Corinth,  and  with  loyal  blood  sprink- 
ling its  pathway  here  and  there,  it  reached  and  oc- 
cupied deserted  Memphis  above,  and  the  roar  of  the 
Gibralter  of  the  Mississippi,  below.  Vicksburg  held 
months  of  resistance  in  its  rocky  strength.  The  rain  of 
shot  and  shell  which  fell  in  torrents,  and  flooded  the 
city  with  fire,  and  blood,  poured  at  intervals  for  months, 
but  the  heart  of  stone  would  not  yield.  There  was  gal- 
lant  resistance  within,  and  persistant  fighting  without. 

It  was  hard  for  Ringold  to  turn  his  back  to  Chatta- 
nooga when  so  near  it,  and  only  his  growing  love  for 
Trissilian,  gave  him  courage  to  meet  the  order  to  face 
the  west  with  obedience.  They4ieard  of  the  dear  old 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  US.  235 

Regiment  with  Colonel  Berry,  and  of  its  successes,  and 
its  sorrows,  as  parted  families  do,  with  sympathy  for 
losses,  and  rejoicing  for  their  gains. 

Colonel  Berry  wrote  one  letter,  brimful  of  warm 
friendship  to  Ringold,  and  after  the  boy  had  read  it 
through,  he  smiled  softly  to  himself,  forgetting  that  the 
incisive  black  eyes  of  his  Colonel  were  cleaving  through 
his  silence.  Then  he  began  to  shred  it  into  the  tiniest 
bits,  and  blow  the  waifs  of  affection  into  the  soft  evening 
air  from  his  finger  tips,  all  the  time  with  a  halo  about 
his  face,  as  if  something  had  come  to  him  which  he  had 
lovingly  absorbed,  and  he  was  sending  messages  back 
upon  the  air. 

"Ringold." 

The  finger  fell,  and  the  paper  moats  drifted  but  in  a 
white  flood  upon  the  long  green  grass.  There  was  a 
sally  of  every-day  expressions,  and  the  voice  took  on 
the  new  changes  which  it  sometimes  rung  since  that  twi- 
light story  at  Cairo. 

"  Your  Honor's  servant." 

"  No  matter.  You  are  not  the  same  person  I 
addressed  a  second  ago.  I  have  nothing  particular  to 
say  to  this  one.  That  other  was  charming.  I've  seen  the 
face  before.  Perhaps  it  was  in  dream-land,  but  cer- 
tainly somewhere.  I'm  in  no  mood  to  be  respectful  to- 
night, and  you  are  to  have  a  season  of  catechism.  I 
will  begin  at  the  rudiments.  What  is  your  name  ?" 


236 

The  blood  swung  its  reddest  pennant  out  over  the 
boy's  cheeks,  but  Trissilian's  mood  was  not  to  be  re- 
sented, or  resisted.  A  battle  of  wits  was  to  be  fought, 
and  the  Boy  in  Blue  was  unarmed  to-night.  Colonel 
Berry's  letter  had  taken  away  his  armor,  as  well  as  his 
parrying  blade  of  dignity. 

"  I  was  christened  in  Rebeldom,  but  joined  the  enemies 
of  that  lovely  Christian  .people,  and  my  baptismal  title 
has  been  sequestered,  if  you  please." 

"  But  I  don't  please.     At  least  let  me  be  umpire." 

"  You  are  not  indifferent,  therefore  unfitted  for  the  posi- 
tion. .  If  you  claim  that  you  are  indifferent,  then  I  shall 
enlist,  and  get  detailed  to  other  service.  I  am  fearing 
an  order  of  this  sort  every  day,  and  then, — oh  dear ! 
It  will  be  promulgated  soon,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  ordered  away  ?"  This  ques- 
tion was  put  with  an  eagerness  that  would  have  seemed 
absurd  to  an  observer,  the  eyes  of  the  speaker  were  so 
impatient  for  a  reply. 

"  No — that — is — I  would  like  to  stay  if  I  didn't  have 
to  say  the — catechism." 

Trissilian  laughed  heartily  at  the  drollery  in  Ringold's 
eyes,  and  voice,  and  yet  he  knew  that  every  word  was 
meant  for  earnest.  The  mystery  of  this  boy  had  grown 
until  the  colonel's  affection  was  wounded  because  he 
had  given  confidence  and  received  nothing.  He  was 
not  whimsical,  but  he  fancied  so  much  mystery  hung 


TEE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  237 

about  the  haughty  child's  life,  which  he  would  have 
shared  with  him  because  of  his  love  and  faith,  if  their 
positions  were  only  reversed. 

Trissilian  began  to  believe  he  detested  reservation  in 
friendship,  as  much  as  he  would  in  love,  if  he  should 
ever  find  the  one  infatuating  woman.  He  had  dreamed 
of  her,  and  thought  he  knew  just  what  she  was  like. 
He  sometimes  fancied  that  Ringold,  with  feminine  sur- 
roundings, dress  and  accomplishments,  was  beautiful, 
affectionate  and  piquant  enough  to  suit  him,  but  the 
reticence — bah  ! 

Gentlemen  say  that  women  keep  no  secrets,  and  so 
they  avoid  depositing  important  mysteries  in  their  cus- 
tody, but  the  moment  she  proves  her  trustworthy 
capacities,  they  insist  that  she  is  not  frank — too  much 
lacking  in  womanly  reliance  upon  man's  truth.  Rin- 
gold tortured  the  colonel.  Jealousy  in  friendship  is  as 
frequent  as  in  love,  and  almost  as  painful,  and  unreason- 
able— but  who  or  what  mythical  personage  should  re- 
ceive his  ill  will? 

He  was  cross  after  he  had  failed  in  his  attempt  to 
unearth  the  buried  past  of  his  young  friend.  He 
thought  of  some  of  these  things  in  the  silence  that 
followed  Ringold's  reply,  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  was  not  properly  paid  for  all  the  affection  which 
he  gave  to  the  proud  boy. 

"  You  can  choose  some  one  to  serve,  whom  you  can 


238  THE  MOT  IN  BL UE. 

trust.  I  am  ready  to  sacrifice  to  your  happiness.  Let 
me  know  when  you  choose  to  want  a  passport." 

Ringold  laughed. 

"  Wont  you  order  a  squad  to  remove  me  !  Really 
I  don't  feel  like  going  without  compulsion.  I'll  give 
you  my  poor  services  if  you  will  let  me  stay" — here 
his  voice  changed  to  a  minor  key,  and  the  tears  tric- 
kled through  the  tones,  but  did  not  come  to  his  solemn 
eyes — "  but  I  can't  tell  you  all  that  has  made  my  poor 
life  a  wreck.  It  foundered  where  too  many  a  young 
heart  did,  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  and  all  went  down  that 
made  its  possession  valuable. 

"  Recently,  hope  brightened,  but  it  is  dulling  to-night. 
I  shall  henceforth  be  an  unbeliever  in  happiness.  I  did 
not  enter  the  service  for  self-preservation,  neither  to 
partake  in  carnage.  It  was  safest  for  my  friends  that  I 
should  be  where  I  am,  but  I  would  gladly  have  left  my 
my  life  where  so  many  have  scattered  theirs.  I  stay 
with  you  if  you  desire  my  service,  more  than  my  con- 
fidence, otherwise,  good  night  and  good  bye." 

The  pathos  of  these  few  sentences  was  keyed  from 
the  Uncomplaining  suffering  of  more  than  a  year's  endu- 
rance, and  touched  the  best  heart  in  the  world. 

"  Not  good  bye !  I'm  a  beast.  I  don't  know  what 
sorrow  means  and  so  let  my  selfish  ill  nature  out  upon 
you  like  a  bull  dog  upon  a  bruised  bird.  Forgive  me, 
Ringold.  You  saved  my  life,  and  tended  me  through 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  239 

days  and  nights  of  temper,  like  a  young  saint,  and  I  am 
quarreling  with  you,  because  you  don't  give  me  every 
thing  you  can  remember.  Bundle  all  my  indebtedness 
into  a  mouthful  of  invective,  and  throw  it  in  my  face, 
the  next  time  I  hurt  you  with  a  word.  That  will  serve 
me  right,  only  forgive  me  this  time." 

Ringold  gave  his  hand,  but  turned  away  his  head,  and 
said  nothing. 

A  little  while  after,  Colonel  Trissilian  heard  him 
singing  in  his  own  tent,  one  of  Shubert  softest  airs  in 
a  rich  deep  contralto,  intoning  the  sentiment  with  a 
strange  eloquence. 

"  If  that  young  man,  was  only  a  woman,  I'd  be  in 
love  with  him.  He  is  just  fascinating  enough  to  make 
a  man  frantic,  if  it  were  not  for  the  seraphic  in  his 
nature.  Too  much  angel,  and  too  little  woman  is  not 
the  thing.  I  wonder  who,  and  what  the  boy  is !  He  is 
a  young  god,  I  suppose  who  has  lost  his  throne.  I  am 
ashamed  of  my  manner  to  him,  but  it  grew  out  of  my 
fondness,  though  he  isn't  old  enough  to  understand  the 
thing.  I  hope  wisdom  will  linger,  for  his  sake,  poor 
boy!" 

Colonel  Trissilian  need  not  have  uttered  such  a  hope. 
Wisdom  had  not  lingered,  and  it  had  brought  sorrow  to 
keep  it  company,  as  it  always  does. 

The  colonel  felt  wise,  but  he  was  not.  He  felt  older 
by  several  years  than  Eingold,  but  he  was  younger  at 
heart  by  a  century. 


240  THE  -8°  Y 


When  the  tent  fly  was  tied  down  for  the  night,  and 
Jetty's  sleep  had  passed  into  inharmonous  snores,  Rin- 
gold  knelt  by  his  cot,  and  the  prayer  was  longer,  and 
the  tears  bigger  than  usual.  They  were  great  tropical 
drops  of  heated  feeling,  and  then  slower,  and  softer  they 
fell,  like  a  summer  rain  at  twilight,  leaving  the  sun- 
set tints  pure,  and  the  air  sweet.  So  Ringold's  face 
was  calm,  and  the  future  welcome  after  the  prayer. 

Slumber  came  soothingly,  and  in  dreams  Ringold 
forgot  that  it  was  almost  a  year  since  he  separated  from 
Colonel  Berry,  and  this  was  the  first  letter.  This 
silence  had  sometimes  given  him  pain  and,  sometimes, 
the  remembrance  that  the  Colonel  fancied  him  a  lover 
of  Remy  St.  Remy  made  the  silence  perfectly  natural, 
though  not  quite  as  magnanimous  as  his  ideal  man 
would  have  been.  He  was  learning  that  mankind  do 
not  quite  reach  perfection.  Colonel  Trissilian  taught 
him  this,  and  surely  there  was  great  love  between  them, 
quite  enough  for  future  separations  if  they  should  ever 
come. 

The  year  had  waned  almost,  and  not  a  word  of  Chat- 
tanooga, nor  had  a  face  crossed  his  path  that  had  ever 
looked  in  his  own  before.  His  eyes,  and  heart  ached 
with  the  strain  after  the  familiar  smiles  of  dear  old 
friends,  but  none  answered.  Except  the  few  new  ac- 
quaintance which  he  could  not  wholly  put  aside,  his  life 
was  barren  of  sociality.  Colonel  Trissilian  had  scores 
of  friendship,  but  Ringold  would  not  share  them. 


THE  BO  I'  IN  EL  UE.  241 

There  was  a  group  of  union  people  at  Memphis,  who 
drew  the  Colonel  away  from  his  quarters  almost  every 
evening. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Allaire,  and  three  lovely  daughters 
charmed  him ;  but  Ringold  would  neither  go  with  Tris- 
silian  to  their  house  nor  be  presented  to  them  at  any 
place.  Trissilian  called  him  a  lady  hater,  and  added 
that  he  was  made  to  be  captivating,  and  ought  to  fulfill 
his  mission.  He  told  him  he  was  wasting  first  class 
talents,  and  many  other  merry  things,  all  of  which  held 
a  sting  in  their  jollity  for  the  poor  fellow  who  was  left 
alone. 

Trissilian  was  captured  in  this  evacuated  city,  upon 
his  own  ground  and  by  an  enemy  to  his  peace.  Kitty 
Allaire  had  the  honor  of  accepting  his  surrender  one 
winter  evening,  and  the  prisoner  appeared  far  from 
•wretched.  The  girl  was  as  unlike  Ringold  as  any  man's 
wife,  or  woman's  husband  always  is  to  his,  or  her  ideal. 
She  was  short,  plump,  rosy,  and  blue  eyed.  Her  hair 
was  a  shower  of  amber  when  the  gold  comb  rolled 
away  from  its  pretty  perching  place,  and  let  the  heavy 
threads  fall.  She  was  neither  capricious,  nor  piquant, 
but  always  so  good,  and  tender,  and  loving,  that  Trissil- 
ian invariably  found  her  lips  ready  for  a  kiss. 

She  was  made  of  rose  leaves  and  snow, — a  happy  con- 
trast to  his  description  of  Remy  St.  Remy — who  was 
rose  leaves  and  electricity.     His  views  of  womanhood 
changed  with  his  growing  affection.     In  the  storm  of  his 
21 


242  THE  £OT  IN  BLUE. 

soldier  life,  it  was  sweet  to  find  a  place  of  calm.  When 
the  clouds  threatened,  and  were  very  dark,  Kitty  Allaire 
was  most  radiant.  He  missed  nothing  from  her  face, 
nothing  from  her  voice,  nothing  from  the  music  of  her 
prattle.  Emotion  had  always  been  lulled  for  her,  by 
sweet  sounds,  and  she  had  ripened  under  tropical  suns, 
and  never  been  swayed  to  a  whirlwind  of  grief.  She 
was  created  to  be  a  bird,  blossom,  beauty,  everything, 
that  made  Heaven  attractive,  and  a  home,  paradise, — so 
he  thought.  If  he  wanted  a  deeper  draught  of  inteleet- 
ual  pleasure,  there  were  books,  and  men  enough  to 
answer  his  craving.  His  life  had  been,  and  must  be  full 
of  labor,  and  this  young  velvet^eyed,  satin-cheeked  girl, 
was  to  be  henceforth  his  rest. 

Glowing,  and  glorious  as  his  pictures  of  this  beauty 
were,  Ringold  neither  tired  of  the  descriptions,  nor  con- 
sented to  look  in  upon  the  charming  home  where  Kitty 
Allaire  held  court  with  all  earthly  loveliness. 

Yes,  Colonel  Trissilian  fancied  he  had  found  human 
perfection  in  his  crusade  against  the  Rebels.  He  did 
not  imagine  that  at  heart,  this  Union  family  were  con- 
federates of  variable  color,  nor  how  Kitty  did  truly  love 
and  defend  him  against  her  family  in  his  absences,  pro- 
vided they  were  not  too  long.  And  then,  too,  this  was 
the  first  division  of  household  sentiment,  and  it 
swerved  farther  and  farther  toward  Kitty's  wishes,  as 
the  Federal  successes  penetrated  farther  into  the  core  of 
the  Rebellion.  They  were  one  of  those  varieties  of 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  HE.  243 

people  whose  daughters  are  angels,  and  whose  sons  are 
nobodies.  All  heart,  and  no  brain  was  their  apparent 
compound.  Energetic  when  the  wind  was  fair,  and  de- 
spondent and  idly  acquiescent  when  the  sails  wanted 
close  reefing,  and  to  be  kept  under  a  firm  management. 
Trissilian  thought  little  of  this.  "  Original  Unionists" 
were  not  common  in  Memphis,  but  he  suspected  nothing 
and  was  perfectly  happy. 

Ringold  did  sometimes  feel  a  trifle  human,  when  the 
rose  tints  were  intense  in  Trissilian's  poetic  delineations 
of  his  future  with  Kitty  Allaire.  He  could  not  help 
feeling  crowded  out,  or  at  least  jostled  aside  by  the  new 
friend. 

What  sister,  or  brother  ever  felt  the  one  next  them 
in  the  household,  drifting  into  another  haven  without 
pain,  even  if  their  own  hand,  and  prayers  sent  the 
loved  one  forth  !  It  is  not  easy  to  become  less  in  the 
thought  even,  and  certainly  not  in  the  affection  of  a 
friend. 

Ringold  longed  sometimes  to  go  to  the  young  girl 
who  had  thrown  such  a  treasure  into  his  friend's  life,  and 
say  "  God  bless  you,"  but  there  were  reasons  which 
prevented,  that  he  dare  not  put  aside.  The  ache  of 
loneliness  was  sometimes  forgotten,  when  Jetty  sat  in 
the  closed  tent,  and  sang  the  old  plantation  songs,  and' 
they  talked  over  the  dear  old  times,  and  Ringold  pic- 


344  THE  -80  * 


tured  a  future  to  the  big  believing  black  eyes,  looking 
up  at  him  till  he  almost  believed  it  himself. 

Days  full  of  busy  hours,  and  nights  slept  away,  sped 
till  near  Christmas,  and  then  ! 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK  345 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NOT    WHAT    HE    INTENDED. 

"  And  I, — I  had  come  back  to  an  empty  nest, 
Which  every  bird's  too  wise  for." 

"  O  PLEASE  to  dont  leave  me.  'Pears  like  I'll  up  and 
die  if  you  go  for  to  say  I  must  stay  in  dis  ere  ugly 
place,  where  cullud  people's  no  count,  no  more'n  rats. 
Nobody  dont  care  if  we  is  or  isn't  spectable ;  wese 
niggers,  aw  goin  to  eat  sumfin,  or  need  a  box  to  wear  to 
the  grave  yard  when  wese  starved.  Mebby  like,  you 
won't  git  back  at  all.  I  seed  a  yaller  cat  in  my  sleep, 
an  yaller  cats  allus  means  sumfin  awful,  course  they  dus. 
Black  folks  was  made  for  nuffin  only  plagues,  an  tor- 
ments. Wish  I  was  skinned  an  bleached.  Glad  dere 
aint  any  black  angels.  Fire  and  brimstone  aint  nuffin 
to  bein  a  nigger,  an  starvin  in  Memphis  without  nobody 
to  own  ye.  Please  to  don't  go,  I'll  die  sure's  guns,  an 
den  you  wont  have  nobody  to  cry  at  your  funeral, 
honey.  Please  to  don't,  oh  Lor' — oh  Lor' !" 

The  bewailing  was  terrific.  Jetty  rolled  like  a  ship 
in  a  storm  but  Eingold  knew  there  would  be  a  calm  by- 
21* 


246  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

and  bye,  and  so  waited,  though  with  a  troubled  pitying 
face,  that  was  eloquent  with  unexpressed  sympathy. 
The  lull  came. 

"  Jetty,  you  are  brave  to  bear,  and  don't  complain  when 
I  should  think  you  would.  You  have  been  kind  to  me, 
and  served  me  when  you  were  free  to  do  as  you  chose." 

"  Didn't  be  kind — I  made  many  a  big  lip  at  you, 
when  you  wasn't  lookin.  I'se  an  awful  sinner,  so  don't 
go  fur  to  say  I  isn't,  but  I  lub  you  like  all  possessed,  an 
allus  did,  if  I  d us  tell  a  whopper  sometimes." 

"  Hush,  Jetty.  I  don't  wish  to  remember  anything 
unpleasant  of  you,  where  there  is  so  much  that  is  good 
to  be  grateful  for.  I  must  go  to  Chattanooga,  or  at 
least  far  enough  to  learn  something  of  my  family.  Gen- 
eral  Sherman's  order  that  no  citizen  shall  go  with  his 
expedition  against  Vicksburg  has  driven  me  to  this. 
As  long  as  I  could  be  with  the  colonel,  I  was  com  par  i- 
tively  happy,  but  now  I  must  find  some  means  of  Insur- 
ing from  our  friends,  for  whom  I  fear  so  much.  Some- 
time I'll  tell  you  something  of  Colonel  Trissilian,  and 
then  you'll  know  why  I  was  so  content,  and  happy  with 
him,  but  not  now.  I  love  him  with  all  my  heart,  Jetty, 
and  if  you  hear  that  he  is  wounded  or  ill,  take  this  note 
to  the  Provost  Marshal,  and  he  will  give  you  a  pass  to 
reach  him.  Don't  show  it  to  any  one  unless  necessary, 
but  if  anything  happens  that  I  don't  return,  here  is  an- 
other parcel  for  the  colonel  with  Ringold's  last  and  best 
love.  Don't  forget  my  message,  Jetty.  I  shall  leave 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  347 

Victory  at  the  last  Federal  garrison  before  Chattanooga. 
You  will  be  cared  for  here.  I  have  secured  you  a  place 
at  this  house,  and  if  you  are  discreet,  no  trouble  will 
come  to  you.  Your  weeping  will  make  me  unhappy, 
and  I  cannot  wait  with  you,  or  I  shall  go  mad,  and  to  take 
you,  would  be  sure  loss  to  you.  You  would  never  see, 
— you  know  who,  in  this  miserable  world.  I'll  come 
back.  You  know  there  is  no  hardship  too  great  for  me 
now,  after  Donnelson,  and  the  march  to  Corinth.  If 
you  go  from  this  place,  leave  this  glove  at  the  Allaire's 
for  Colonel  Trissilian,  and  a  message  for  me,  then  he'll 
find  you,  if  you  are  in  the  world,  Jetty,  you  know  he  will. 
Don't  cry  anymore.  The  good  God  feeds  the  birds  and 
clothes  the  lillies  of  the  field — Good-bye." 

"  Good  bye,  honey.  De  Lor'  scare  de  Rebels  away 
from  you,  and  let  de  light  of  his  face  shine  on  you  all 
de  way.  I  hope  F  shan't  dream  of  yaller  cats  while  yer 
gone." 

Ringold's  lip  quivered  as  he  left  Jetty,  but  it  was  not 
the  terrible  agony  with  which  he  turned  from  Trissilian. 
This  parting  was  the  last  straw,  so  the  poor  Boy  in  Blue 
thought,  but  there  were  other  things  to  endure — but  they 
came  like  the  rain,  only  a  drop  at  a  time. 

Accidentally  nearing  the  door  where  he  had  left 
Jetty,  he  had  heard  that  "  irrepressible"  talking  to  him- 
self. 

"  Feeds  the  birds  does  he.  Well,  dis  chile  don't  like 
bugs,  and  worms,  no  more  it  don't,  and  I  won't  take 


248  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

any  of  that  pesky  kind  o'  feedin.  'Pears  like  de  God 
my  mammer  Cleopatra  telled  of,  don't  live  bout  in  dese 
parts.  I'd  like  to  see  him  clothe  dis  ere  lily — Isn't  it  a 
lubly  flower,  this  ere  delicate  chile  1  I'd  like  to  see  de 
Lor'  take  charge  ob  dis  nigger's  Sunday  fixins,  guess 
He'd  hab  trouble  nuff  widout  looking  arter  de  ebery 
day  toggery.  Ky  !  Neber  mind,  my  blessed  Ringold  '11 
come  back  bineby,  an  it'll  be  as  good  as  camp  meetin 
and  Christmas.  De  Lor'll  bless  dat  chile,  if  dere  is 
any  Lor'  bout  here.  O  dis  nigger  smell  dinner,  an  I  is 
awful  empty  !" 

The  Allaire's  seemed  to  regret  Leon  Trissilian's  going, 
but  Kitty  kept  her  sunshine  for  him  till  the  very  last, 
and  saved  her  regret,  if  she  had  any,  till  he  was  gotae. 

Ringold  anticipated  little  regret,  from  his  friend, 
compared  with  that  which  belonged  to  the  parting  with 
the  fiancee,  but  he  was  touched  to  tears  by  the  tender 
ways  the  colonel  had  all  that  busy  day  before  separa- 
tion. 

"  Ringold,  I  believe  there  is  some  mysterious  tie  be- 
tween us.  If  I  believed  in  transmigration,  I  should  be 
sure  you  and  I  had  been  something  to  each  other  before 
we  came  to  this  military  review,  which  was  different  from 
officer  and  aid.  I  dreaded  leaving  Kitty,  the  sweet  child, 
but  she  was  so  summery,  and  sunny,  I  didn't  feel  the 
sting  of  parting  very  much,  but  to  separate  from  you, 
is  like  leaving  a  portion  of  myself.  Promise  ine  not  to 
be  careless  of  life  or  limb,  for  my  sake " 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  249 

"I  promise." 

"  To  be  here  upon  rny  return " 

"  I  promise." 

"  To  let  no  one  come  between  your  friendship,  and 
mine,  to  rank  higher  than  I  ?" 

i 

"  I  promise." 

"  When  you  come  back,  to  tell  me  everything1?" 

"  All  I  may,  that  will  not  make  you  less  happy  for 
the  knowledge.  Good  bye,  my  more  than  friend.  May 
you  rest  in  the-  palm  of  the  Good  Father  of  us  all, 
ccdonel,  while  your  friend  is  away  from  you.  I  would 
have  enlisted  if  I  could,  and  gone  with  you.  Sometime 
I  will  tell  you  why  I  seem  strange,  and  you  will  be  glad 
I  did  not  yield  to  your  curiosity." 

Hands  were  rung,  and  the  parting  past,  but  the  ache 
was  beyond  words.  Trissilian  almost  doubted  if  he 
loved  Kitty  Allaire,  when  a  boy  could  leave  such  a 
sore  need. 

Loves  are  so  different !  The  depth  of  Ringold's 
heart,  he  had  never  fathomed,  and  it  seemed  immeasura- 
ble. It  was  like  an  artesian  well.  Kitty  Allaire's  affec- 
tion was  like  a  river  that  spreads  its  silver  ripples  over 
white  pebbles,  and  laughs  and  gurgles,  and  you  can 
measure  its  depths  with  your  eyes. 

Trissilian  thought  over  these  things,  and  was  not 
quite  satisfied.  He  feared  that  there  would  sometime 
be  a  thirst  in  his  life,  that  Kitty  Allaire  would  fail  to 
slake,  with  her  shallow  currents  of  emotion. 


250  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

The  New  Year  had  fully  come  when  the  Boy  in  Blue 
left  Memphis.  It  was  like  turning  from  home,  to  leave 
the  only  two  friends  he  was  sure  of  possessing.  There 
was  little  hope  in  the  expedition,  but  he  longed  for  a  cer- 
tainty. He  had  been  too  many  months  subject  to  a  tor- 
turing imagination  and  any  reality  could  be  scarce 
worse.  The  peril  of  his  purpose  had  not  entered  into 
a  fixed  place  in  his  thoughts.  He  had  forgotten  fear,  and 
life  held  so  little  ! 

He  took  the  river,  up  as  far  as  OsceoJa,  and  then 
crossed  to  the  opposite  shore  with  a  Rebel  uniform  upon 
his  graceful  figure,  and  a  form  of  parole  from  an  unmen- 
tionable Union  officer  in  the  breast  of  his  coat.  The 
night  covered  his  retreat  from  Federal  appearances,  but 
his  true  heart  throbbed  out  perpetually  its  great  love 
for  the  dear  old  Union,  and  its  quiet  happiness. 

Opposite  Osceola  there  was  a  family  of  Loyalists,  and 
with  them  Ringold  left  his  "  true  blue,"  and  the  entire 
personal  proof  of  his  participation  in  the  struggle  for 
freedom,  and  the  winter  dawn  saw  him  crossing  the 
country  toward  the  village  of  Lexington. 

Sometimes  the  highway,  and  sometimes  the  wilds  of 
this  half  populated  country  was  the  chosen  solitary 
route. 

The  huge  Mississippi  dragged  its  cold  muddy  tide  to- 
ward Vicksburg  in  the  twilight  of  that  morning,  and 
Ringold  looked  wistfully  at  its  flow  in  the  deep  hush  of 
coming  day,  but  the  eager  gaze  died  out  in  the  big  hot 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  251 

tears  that  were  tossed  with  the  boy's  petulant  bro\vn 
hand,  to  make  pearls  for  Victory's  glossy  neck,  and  then 
fade  into  the  mist  that  lay  over  the  dull  broken  slope. 
Then  the  sun  laid  its  yellow  level  beams  over  the 
bridle  path,  and  Ringold  grasped  at  the  omen  with  his 
quick  reactive  heart,  and  chirruped  to  Victory,  and 
looked  no  more  after  the  tide. 

"  What  a  courageous  person  you  are,  to  be  sure,  gaz- 
ing drearily  backward  !  Everything  seems  worse  than 
the  last.  Courage  must  have  evacuated  your  heart, 
Ringold,  and  now  for  a  recapture,"  and  so  over  the 
brown  rough  earth,  Victory's  hoofs  made  the  music  of 
the  return  to  Chattanooga. 

Only  a  forest  trail,  and  the  needle  of  his  compass 
guided  the  child  all  that  day,  for  the  sunbeams  withdrew 
after  the  first  morning  hour  had  gone  by,  until  the  night 
drowned  the  path  in  its  blackness,  and  only  silence,  and 
loneliness  was  left.  Victory  browsed  upon  the  twigs, 
and  Ringold  slept  upon  the  moss.  The  openings  had 
been  waided,  with  their  groups  of  wretched  kennels  sur- 
rounded by  cotton  brush,  which  only  made  the  proof  of 
past  thrift  the  sadder  to  think  about,  and  strange  as  it 
would  seem  to  a  civilian,  Ringold's  rest  was  sweet,  and 
deep,  and  refreshing.  One  who  has  faced  a  foe  at  sabre 
distance  with  unnumbered  odds,  would  think  little  of 
the  possibilities  of  danger  during  a  night's  lonely  en- 
campment. 

The  morning  only  broke  the  slumberer's  quiet,  and 


I 


252  THE  SOY  IN  SLUE. 

the  slight  cold  breakfast  from  his  delicate  stock,  was  soon, 
over.  He  avoided  the  small  village  of  Lexington  which 
he  neared  toward  nightfall  of  the  second  day. 

Only  twice  had  he  been  interrogated  during  his  ride, 
and  his  parole  had  served  him  each  time.  In  the  long 
silence  after  these  interviews,  the  old  hatred  of  subter- 
fuge would  make  him  very  miserable,  but  there  were 
worse  sins  in  the  world  just  then  than  his  pure  heart 
could  imagine.  He  need  not  have  so  sorrowed  for  this, 
but  the  dear  old  times  and  thoughts  and  their  sweet 
ways  were  wrapping  his  soul  in  memory's  enfolding. 

He  endeavored  to  keep  south  of  Murfreesboro  lest 
he  should  be  captured  by  Union  soldiers,  and  be  obliged 
to  pass  a  hindering  scrutiny,  and  perhaps  be  suspected 
of  being  a  spy,  and  yet  there  were  families  not  far 
below  this  post,  who  would  be  likely  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  people  of  Chattanooga,  and  perhaps  save 
him  a  longer  journey.  He  was  not  quite  certain  of  the 
Federal  position,  nor  just  where  our  outposts  were,  as 
changes  were  so  constantly  made. 

The  third  night  he  passed  under  the  shelter  of  a  hos- 
pitable home  whose  inmates  were  too  human  to  ask 
questions.  "  Only  a  lad,  and  alone,"  was  the  thought 
of  these  people. 

Ringold  approached  it  because  there  was  a  delicacy 
in  its  appearance,  and  a  sweetness  in  its  surroundings 
that  drew  him  Up  its  shaded  avenue,  with  that  myste- 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  253 

rious  charm  of  beauty,  and  a  belief  in  its  inseparableness 
from  courtesy. 

Ringold  could  not  tell  if  it  were  intuition,  or  the 
avoidance  of  Confederate  interests,  that  led  him  to  the 
conclusion  that  they  were  secretly  attached  to  the 
Northern  policy. 

Certainly,  they  were  tender,  and  true  to  the  higher 
laws  of  Christianity,  as  he  saw  and  felt  through  all  his 
perceptions  of  the  beautiful  ways  of  a  family  narrowed 
in  its  resourses,  but  too  grandly  good,  to  forget  the 
old  laws  of  hospitality. 

Mr.  Stuart  was  a  fine  specimen  of  manhood,  but  the 
Confederacy  had  spared  him,  because  he  had  lost  a  limb 
in  the  breakers  after  a  wreck,  years  and  years  ago,  and  a 
slight  hesitancy  in  the  fall  of  his  right  limb,  indicated 
the  helps  of  art,  but  was  not  painfully  suggestive  of 
perpetual  lameness.  The  lady,  who  looked  the  imper- 
sonation of  Christian  calm,  and  loving  kindness,  seemed 
a  fitting  mate  for  the  head  of  the  house. 

Only  two  beautiful  grandchildren  were  with  them, 
because  the  remainder  of  the  household  had  not  re- 
turned from  abroad,  and  was  in  Egypt  or  Holy  Land 
at  the  last  date  of  letters,  almost  two  years  ago.  The 
girl  was  about  eighteen,  and  a  rare  face,  and  figure,  she 
possessed.  It  was  not  like  any  of  the  beauties  we  see  in 
pictures,  only  the  form  of  the  features,  and  the  low 
growth  of  a  wealth  of  hair  reminded  you  of  Clytie.  She 
looked  sad  and  anxious,  except  when  she  knew  she  was 
22 


254  TL'E  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

to  meet  the  scrutiny  of  her  grandfather,  or  grand- 
mother, and  then  she  brought  a  light,  and  a  smile  from 
some  place  where  her  hidden  sunshine  lay,  and  became 
a  summer  to  the  winter  of  their  waning  lives. 

Ringold  saw  this,  before  the  first  evening  went  by,  and 
the  strongest  sympathy  sprang  up  for  this  charming  girl, 
but  he  could  not  express  it,  except  by  the  involuntary  ^ 
outlook  of  his  earnest  eyes.  Belle  Stuart  fejt  the  sub- 
tle influence  of  the  young  soldier's  soul,  even  through 
the  contradictory  appearance  of  his  uniform.  Guy 
Stuart  had  turned  from  the  fire  where  the  Confederate 
emblems  annoyed  his  sight,  after  a  few  words  of  courte- 
sey,  and  his  spirited  young  face  did  not  dawn  upon  them 
again  that  night.  The  old  people  comprehended  why. 

But  a  few  months  more,  and  the  minimum  age  of  the 
conscript  would  be  upon  him,  and  oh  the  heartbreak 
there  was  in  this  too  terrible  fact! 

His  sister's  eyes  followed  him  with  a  filmy  look,  as 
if  her  tears  had  been  all  spent,  and  the  heavy  lids  had 
become  too  weary  for  weeping.  Then  her  gaze  came 
back  and  fell  questioningly  upon  their  guest,  who  had 
not  missed  a  single  change  that  had  flitted  over  the 
brow,  and  lips  of  this  young  girl. 

"Are  you  a  volunteer,  or  a  conscript]"  she  ven- 
tured to  ask,  as  their  gaze  met,  and  would  not 
separate. 

It  was  a  question  Ringold  had  not  anticipated,  and  ho 
could  not  look  into  those  eager  eyes,  and  tell  a  false- 


THE  BO  Y  IN  £L  UK  255 

hood,  and  so  he  dropped  his  young  head,  and  was  silent 
for  a  moment,  and  then  without  calculating  the  possible 
danger  of  his  reply,  said  : 

"  Neither,  young  lady.  J  am  as  I  am,  because  fate 
and  not  conscription  willed  it.  I  should  never  be  a 
soldier  from  choice.  Only  because  of  duty,  parental 
duty,  and  affection,  am  I  here  to-night."  The  voice  was 
low,  and  quivering  with  emotion.  Its  minor  tones 
were  always  marvelous  but  now  they  were  pitiful. 

Mrs.  Stuart  caught  the  tone,  and  her  womanly  per- 
ception understood  the  boy's  untold  story.  No  matter 
what  it  was,  there  were  distress  under  the  beautiful 
brown  cheeks,  and  sad  handsome  brow,  and  she  turned 
to  him  with  a  motherly  touch  upon  his  black  curls,  and 
his  swift  hand  covered,  and  pressed  the  thin  white  palm 
close  to  his  head. 

He  had  been  orphaned  of  a  mother's  memory  even, 
but  he  knew,  and  felt  to-night  what  it  all  might  mean, 
and  the  big  tears  rolled  unheeded  over  the  velvety 
olive  of  his  cheeks,  during  this  wordless  blessing. 

A  struggle  for  self-supremacy,  and  the  old  voice 
asked  if  he  might  retire,  because  the  ride  had  made  him 
weak  and  weary* 

Not  the  room  which  was  kept  for  travelers  who  de- 
pend upon  the  kindness  of  those  big  hearted  people 
among  a  scattered  population,  was  given  him,  but  a 
guest's  chamber  with  its  dainty  appliances  of  luxury, 
and  comfort.  It  quite  weakened  the  lad's  heroic  pur- 


256  THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE. 

poses  for  a  moment,  to  be  so  vividly  reminded  of  refined 
life,  but  the  spirit  of  self-renunciation,  and  endurance, 
had  not  quite  gone  beyond  call. 

The  night  and  its  vivid  fancies,  and  recollections, 
were  passed  at  length  but  they  were  so  painfully  slow 
in  their  wraning  that  nearly  all  the  accumulated  strength 
of  two  years  active  duty  slid  away  from  Ringold's 
lithe  figure,  and  he  could  scarcely  arrange  his  garments, 
and  force  his  feet  across  his  chamber,  and  down  the 
staircase,  to  the  breakfast  room. 

Mrs.  Stuart's  sweet  womanly  eyes  saw  the  change, 
and  forgetting  the  age  that  made  her  feeble,  stepped 
quickly  forward,  and  clasping  his  arm,  forced  him  gent- 
ly into  an  easy  chair,  and  with  one  sentence  asked  a 
question  that  included  in  her  paternal  soul  every  ail  of 
a  young  body. 

"  Where  is  your  mother,  child  ?" 

"I  have  none,"  and  the  incisive  voice  entered  her 
heart  like  a  moan  of  pain. 

"  Poor  Boy  !  She's  better  off  though,  sleeping  under 
the  pansies,  than  lying  awake  for  her  children  in  these 
terrible  days.  Try  to  be  glad  she  does  not  suffer,  my 
child." 

"  She  isn't  under  the  green  grass  and  purple  violets, 
my  dear  Madam,  for  her  bones  are  under  the  surf  of  a 
Northern  shore,  if  the  years  have  not  worn  them  away. 
I  sometimes  wish  I  were  with  her,  but  then " 

"  No,  no,  child.     The  world  wants  you,  or  you  would 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  257 

not  stay.  You  are  worn  out  now,  and  need  rest,  and 
there  is  fever, — just  a  throb  or  two  in  your  hand.  You 
shall  remain  with  us  to-day,  and  to-morrow  you  can  go, 
if  you  must.  A  drop  of  wine,  and  a  bit  of  breakfast 
will  bring  the  brightness  back  into  your  dull  eyes." 

Miss  Belle,  and  the  grandfather  joined  them,  but  Guy 
Stuart  did  not  come  in.  He  had  been  sleepless  too,  the 
past  night,  and  his  room  was  next  Ringold's,  and  so  he 
had  heard  low  half  smothered  sobs,  and  the  rest- 
less turning  of  the  guest  through  the  long  hours,  and  he 
dared  not  face  him  at  table,  lest  he  should  betray  a  sym- 
pathy which  would  lead  the  young  soldier  to  suspect  his 
night's  restlessness  was  known.  But  there  was  an 
intense  interest  awakened  in  Guy's  mind,  and  he  felt 
sure  Ringold  wore  a  false  exterior.  Simple  hearted  and 
generous  as  were  these  southern  people,  the  Stuart 
blood  had  never  flowed  along  nobler  veins,  or  through 
more  kingly  hearts.  Guy  hated  the  Confederacy,  and 
almost  despised  himself,  because  he  dare  not  proclaim 
his  detestation.  His  intuitions  were  always  wonderful 
— and  positive.  He  knew  that  Ringold  was  not  a  lover 
of  the  new  regime,  but  was  held  somehow  in  the  servi- 
tude of  the  south.  While  he  was  thinking  of  all  these 
mysterious  wrongs,  Belle's  voice  reached  him,  speaking 
low,  and  with  agitation. 

"  Come  in,  brother.  The  soldier  is  ill,  very  ill.  You 
must  help  him  to  his  room.  Grandmother  fears  fever. 
He  was  speaking  of  his  mother's  loss  by  wreck,  and 
22* 


258  THE 

it  happens  that  grandfather  was  in  the  same  unfor- 
tunate ship,  and  the  poor  fellow  was  quite  overcome,  as 
the  old  gentleman  was  telling  it  all  over.  I  wish  he  did 
not  so  love  to  relate  that  terrible  story." 

By  the  time  the  breakfast  room  was  reached,  Ringold 
sat  up,  rigid  and  resolute,  insisting  there  was  nothing 
required,  and  begging  pardon  for  the  trouble  he  had 
given  them,  when  the  ashy  white  flood  swept  over  him 
again,  and  Guy,  and  a  servant  carried  him  back  to  his 
room.  When  the  tide  of  life  returned,  Ringold  begged 
to  see  Mrs.  Stuart  alone,  just  one  moment. 

An  hour  they  were  together,  and  when  the  dear  old 
lady  came  forth  from  her  interview,  her  soft  eyes  were 
red  with  weeping,  but  she  only  said  in  explanation  : 

"  Ringold  has  no  mother,  and  is  seeking  his  home, 
which  he  fears  has  been  swept  away  with  all  our  pros- 
perity. We  will  be  very  kind  to  him,  but  I  think  no 
physician  is  required.  He  does  not  desire  it.  He  has 
fallen  asleep.  Human  sympathy  is  all  he  requires  at 
present,  and  we  have  an  abundance  for  him,  through  the 
same  suffering.  That  child  possesses  a  shy  beautiful  spirit 
and  a  fierce  destiny  has  driven  him  out  like  a  bird  in  a 
storm.  We  will  shelter  it — him — her, — Ringold  for  a 
few  days,  until  he  is  able  to  proceed  upon  his 
journey." 

Mrs.  Stuart  looked  embarrassed,  and  there  were  three 
questioning  faces  turned  toward  her,  but  high  breeding 
kept  silence,  while  reticence  was  evidently  desired. 


THE  BOY  IN  EL UE.  259 

Guy  Stuart  offered  his  services,  as  nurse,  attendant 
or  companion,  and  to  his  amazement  his  kindness  was 
declined.  He  desired  an  interview  with  Ringold,  now 
that  his  convictions  were  confirmed  and  thought  his 
grandmother  very  peculiar  to  deny  him  what  a  similar- 
ity of  age,  seemed  to  permit. 

A  low  remittent  fever  followed  the  restless  night,  and 
for  months — till  the  summer  was  close  upon  them,  it 
held  Ringold  a  prisoner.  Mrs.  Stuart  watched  him 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  mother,  and  alternated  with  an 
old,  and  devoted  black  auntie,  in  attending  upon  him. 
It  was  a  fearful  bondage  to  the  poor  child,  but  no  words 
of  complaint  were  syllabled  in  that  chamber  of  suffer- 
ing, and  waiting. 

Then  the  better  days  of  health  come  back,  and  Rin- 
gold felt  that  he  was  bound  to  this  household,  in  per- 
petual'bonds  of  gratitude  and  affection. 

One  quiet  spring  day,  he  said  to  Mrs.  Stewart,  as  he 
lay  trifling  with  the  sunbeams  through  his  thin  fingers. 

"  My  dear  friend,  and  mother,  I  have  told  you  all, 
but  there  is  an  affliction  hidden  away  in  the  heart  of  this 
family,  that  I  do  not  fully  understand,  and  perhaps  if 
you  choose  to  lay  it  open  to  me,  I  can  allay  its  keenness. 
Do  you  desire  escape  from  the  Confederacy  for  your 
grand-son  that  will  prevent  suspicion  from  falling  upon 
the  house  ?" 

"  How  could  you  guess  it,  child  1" 


260  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

"  By  a  communion  of  souls  that  suffer,  I  suppose.  If 
he  will  go  with  me,  with  the  ostensible  purpose  of  en- 
listing at  Chattanooga,  I  will  see  him  safe  within  the 
Union  lines,  and  he  may  be  called  captured,  or  any 
story  you  prefer,  may  be  promulgated.  These  are  days 
of  expedients.  I  do  not  say  it  is  right,  but  life  is  some- 
times very  sweet.  He  is  too  young  to  serve  in  the 
Federal  Army,  but  there  are  honorable  ways  of  procur- 
ing support.  Will  you  trust  me?  You  know  I  am  only 
— "  the  brown  hands  covered  the  face  of  Ringold,  and 
the  pantomime  completed  the  sentence. 

A  mingling  of  pain,  and  hope,  lay  in  the  soft  eyes  of 
Mrs.  Stuart,  as  she  answered,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  believe  God  sent  you,  as  he  sent  the  angel  to  Lot's 
house,  in  Sodom,  and  whatever  you  suggest,  we  will 
gladly  permit." 

That  night  there  was  a  long  consultation  below,  and 
above,  a  tugging  at  the  fibres  of  Ringold's  heart  which 
stretched  away  southward,  and  clung  with  a  loving  ten- 
sion to  the  old  fastenings. 

Duty,  and  generosity  triumphed,  and  the  unselfish 
boy  was  not  only  willing,  but  glad  at  being  able  to  bear 
away  one  more  victim  from  the  terror  of  Secession,  by 
the  aid  of  his  Rebel  Grey,  and  the  copy  of  a  fictitious 
parole. 

A  few  more  days  of  convalescence  gave  an  opportu- 
nity for  the  intention  of  the  family  to  be  understood  by 


TEE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  261 

the  surrounding  planters,  and  parting  words  to  be  said, 
find  then  the  best  animal  in  the  Stuart  stables  stood 
waiting  for  the  tenderest  parting,  to  be  past. 

It  is  an  old  story  now,  because  these  almost  hopeless 
separations,  are  so  common !  However,  this  was  what 
they  had  hoped,  and  prayed  for.  The  Stuarts  knew 
that  they  were  cousidered  lukewarm  if  not  actually  sus- 
pected in  the  vicinity,  and  dare  not  add  to  the  smoth- 
ered flame  that  might  burst  forth,  and  destroy  them. 
This  patriotic  step  quite  won  back  the  old  feeling  of 
kindness,  and  the  wave  of  reaction  poured  gifts  and 
kmd  washes  upon  the  departing  hero. 

Ringold  was  understood  to  have  been  captured  while 
hearing  dispatches,  and  released  directly  upon  a  prom- 
ise to  return  to  his  old  home  till  exchanged.  Yes,  the 
parting  hour  was  with  them  and  the  sacredness  even  of 
this  holy  time  was  profaned  by  expedients,  and  false- 
hood, for  keen  eyes  were  watching,  and  quick  ears 
listening,  but  love  made  the  ruse  perfect,  and  the  actors 
separated  unsuspected.  Old  eyes  were  dimmer,  and 
young  hearts  sadder  and  harder  after  the  drama  of  that 
winter  morning. 

The  early  day  lost  only  a  brief  space,  while  their  faces 
were  toward  the  southwest,  and  afterward  skirting 
inhabited  spots  at  a  safe  distance,  they  approached 
Murfreesboro. 

Th£  day  had  wrought  an  inseparable  bond  between 
these  two.  Guy  Stuart,  all  frankness,  and  brimming 


262  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

with  home-sickness,  poured  his  grief  into  a  sympathetic 
bosom,  but  in  the  freshness  and  absorption  of  his  sorrow, 
he  never  thought  that  he  received  nothing  in  return, 
except  counsel,  hope,  and  courage,  such  as  elder  and 
stronger  souls  possess,  and  impart.  He  forgot  that 
Ringold  was  slighter  in  figure,  and  younger  at  times  in 
expression  than  himself,  and  for  aught  he  knew,  with 
less  years  upon  his  young  brave  head.  But  he  had  seen 
service,  and  that  made  him  seem  so  old  !  Then  he  was 
a  leader  in  this  escape  from  secession,  and  that  elevated 
him  to  a  real  hero's  position.  Guy  Stuart  stood  a  half 
head  above  Bingold,  and  yet  was  a  child — a  beautiful 
boy.  Ringold's  face  was  lettered  over  with  a  mys- 
terious hyroglyph  of  experience,  that  looked  out  of  every 
clearly  cut  feature,  and  gleamed  and  gloomed  in  every 
expression  of  his  face,  when  there  was  a  danger  to  meet 
•with  a  beloved  sharer  in  the  danger.  Then  there  were 
hours  of  tenderest,  and  softest  shadows,  alternately, 
with  such  a  light  as  Raphael  encircled  about  the  head 
of  the  Madonna  d'  SanSisto,  or  Leonardo  de  Vinci  gave 
the  beloved  St.  John.  Ringold  had  some  misgivings  in 
regard  to  the  termination  of  their  adventure,  but  he  did 
not  share  them  with  the  companion  of  his  peril.  Their 
plan  was  to  approach  the  Union  lines,  unnoticed  by  the 
Rebels  if  possible,  and  permit  themselves  to  be  cap- 
tured by  our  pickets,  but  the  Rebel  out-posts  were 
closely  guarded,  and  the  lines  watched  with  careful 
scrutiny. 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  HE.  053 

The  night  came  down  upon  them,  and  they  rested 
until  it  deepened  into  profounder  stillness,  and  then 
crept  cautiously  toward  the  town.  Not  a  quiver  of  fear 
shook  the  hand  of  Guy,  or  touched  the  key  of  his  tones 
all  that  day  of  danger  and  night  of  suspense, — only  his 
face  told  the  story.  About  midnight  they  were  to  cross 
an  open  space  of  a  mile,  or  more,  and  the  white  light 
of  a  rounded  moon  upon  the  smooth  meadow  defined 
the  black  outlines  of  their  horses,  and  persons,  and  lent 
targets  for  their  enemies'  fire,  but  they  gave  no  words  to 
their  thoughts,  and  the  slow  moments  were  braved  in 
silence,  with  the  matched  speed  ot  their  spirited  ani- 
mals— and  they  reached  the  shadow  in  safety,  but  the 
ring  of  rifles,  and  the  following  of  hoofs  told  the  tale  of 
discovery  and  pursuit. 

Neither  were  armed,  as  this  defenseless  condition  was 
a  portion  of  their  deception.  For  the  first  time,  terror 
crept  into  the  heart  of  Ringold.  Not  for  himself,  but 
for  Guy  Stuart.  His  quick  brain  served  him  again,  and 
saved  him  from  utter  despair.  He  determined  if  the 
worst  should  come  to  them,  to  assume  to  have  misled 
his  companion,  if  he  could  procure  silence  from  the 
boy.  To  escape  with  their  worn  animals  was 
scarcely  possible,  but  hope  dies  hard,  even  if  it  has 
grown  faint. 

The  spirit  of  the  riders  seemed  to  have  possessed  the 
beasts,  and  they  sped  through  the  narrow  paths,  and 


264  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

over  the  deep  wild  growth  of  shrubs,  oh  so  long,  and 
so  far  it  seemed  !  until  the  cry  of  "  Halt !"  before,  anJ 
not  from  their  pursuers'  brought  the  animals  upon 
their  haunches,  with  the  reply  : 

"  Surrendered  !"  from  the  leader  in  this  almost  neck 
to  neck,  race  for  life. 

The  prisoners  were  led  to  the  captain  of  the  picket, 
and  delivered  up.  They  confessed  to  being  escaped 
Unionists,  and  as  this  was  no  unusual  thing,  it  scarce 
created  interest  sufficient  in  the  weary  officers,  to  give 
them  the  shelter  of  a  tent  for  the  night,  or  care  to  pre- 
vent a  change  of  purpose,  had  such  a  thought  come  to 
them. 

By  morning  the  weakness  and  fever  of  Ringold  came 
back,  and  he  was  raving  in  a  delirium,  and  was  carrie«l 
to  a  Hospital  in  Murfreesboro. 

Guy  was  stupified  with  terror.  Not  a  thought  of  hi-; 
own  position  troubled  him,  but  the  dread  of  his  only 
friend's  death,  was  unendurable,  and  he,  too,  lay  under 
physical  prostration  in  the  next  cot,  with  his  blue  eyes 
strained  into  an  eager  asking  for  hope. 

The  material  in  both  their  lives  seemed  to  have  ex- 
hausted itself  in  that  ride  for  liberty,  and  only  their  be- 
wildered souls  were  visible  at  the  first  glance  into  their 
wonderful  faces. 

Medical  attention  was  given  them  at  dawn,  and  the 
close  scrutiny  which  Ringold's  face,  pulse,  and  peculiar 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  2fi,-j 

expressions  received,  ended  in  his  removal  to  a  private 
room,  in  an  old  mansion  occupied  by  our  sick  and 
wounded. 

There  was  a  tenderness,  and  delicacy  in  the  surgeon's 
manner,  that  aroused  curiosity,  for  he  was  one  of  those 
brusque,  decided  men  who  smother  all  appearance  of 
softness  with  external  indifference. 

When  this  patient  was  cared  for,  he  came  back  to 
Guy,  and  questioned  him  of  his  companion,  but  learned 
little.  There  was  nothing  of  mystery  to  explain.  He 
suspected  something  strange  in  his  new  friend's  history, 
from  Mrs.  Stuart's  manner,  but  the  intense  excitement 
of  his  escape,  had  driven  it  from  his  thoughts,  and  so 
the  surgeon  walked  away,  humming  an  old  childish 
tune,  that  his  patients  had  never  heard  from  him  before. 
Backward,  and  forward  the  poor  man  strode,  tumb- 
ling his  great  shock  of  hair  upon  one  side,  and  then  upon 
the  other  of  his  huge  head  with  his  bony  fingers,  then 
he  shook  his  brain  as  if  rejecting  an  idea,  or  reproving 
it  for  not  suggesting  a  route  out  of  his  perplexity.  On 
he  waded  for  a  while,  and  then  suddenly  stopping  his 
restless  fingers  with  an.  Eureka  !  sound  in  their  tips, 
hurried  from  the  room,  saying : 

"  That's  it,  Johnny  Rutger,  that's  it.     She'll  do  the 

thing  perfectly,  and  save  somebody  for  somebody — I 

don't  know  who,  nor  care.     The  face  is  very  like  one  up 

in  a  Michigan  farm-house,  and  it  must  be  saved,  and 

23 


THE  K0  Y  IN  BL  UE- 


Johnny  Rutger,  it  shall  be,  or  you  may  resign  your 
surgeon's  commission,  and  take  to  cobbling  soHiers 
shoes,  instead  of  mending  their  limbs." 


TEE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  267 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GATHERING      TOGETHER. 

"  But  I  am  tired  of  storms,  and  pain, 

Sweet  angel  let  me  in  ! 
And  send  some  strong  heart  back  again, 

To  suffer  and  to  sin." 

The  angel  answered  stern,  and  slow — 

"How  darest  thou  be  dead, 
While  God  seeks  dust  to  make  the  street, 

Where  happier  men  may  tread?" 

AURORA  FARNAM  received  an  early  call  from  Doctor 
Rutger,  and  after  a  brief,  but  evidently  interesting 
interview,  she  assumed  the  charge  of  the  fever  patient 
iu  the  little  south  chamber.  An  assistant  accompanied 
her,  who  alternated  in  the  long  anxious  watches  that  in- 
tervened between  the  occupation  of  that  little  south 
room,  and  the  day  when  health  conquered  disease, 
though  the  poor  body  was  wasted  to  but  a  shadowy 
outline  of  a  skeleton  when  that  event  happened. 
Aurora  had  heard  her  own  name  called  during  the 
delirium,  and  the  names  of  many  who  were  once  her 
friends.  Carryl  Farnam's  better  days  and  worthier 


208  THE  BO  Y  IAJ  £L  UE. 

deeds,  were  passing  through  this  child's  bewildered 
memory,  and  then  his  name  was  hissed  with  a  detesta- 
tion that  made  Aurora's  blood  creep  coldly  back  to  her 
heart,  and  she  thanked  God  he  was  to  her,  no  more  a 
brother.  Who  lay  so  helpless  and  restless  upon  the 
white  pillow,  was  a  mystery,  but  she  knew  that  what- 
ever of  tenderness,  and  care  could  be  bestowed  upon  a 
human  sufferer  aught  to  be  given  by  herself,  and  yet 
she  could  not  tell  you  why. 

Fathom  the  past  as  deeply  and  carefully  as  she  would, 
she  could  not  find  the  face,  nor  the  voice  of  her  patient. 

The  disconnected  utterances  of  her  delirious  patient, 
led  her  to  one  and  then  another  of  her  childhood  and 
girlhood  friends,  and  then  turned  her  fancies  adrift 
again. 

But  the  fever  ebbed  at  last,  and  the  long  quiet  sleep 
that  is  the  promise  of  life,  passed,  and  Aurora  waited  for 
the  unveiling  of  the  mystery. 

The  great  dark  eyes  opened  and  looked  at  the 
strange  ones  of  Doctor  Rutger,  and  then  the  eyelids  fell 
heavily  and  sadly.  Large  tears  rounded  under  the 
black  lashes,  and  lay  in  the  deep  purple  hollows 
beneath.  The  Doctor  passed  his  own  hand  across  his 
cheek,  and  there  was  a  crystal  drop  left  upon  the  large 
blue  veins.  He  was  an  intuitive  man.  He  understood 
that  the  want  of  a  familiar  face,  brought  the  drops  to 
his  patient's  eyes  and  he  no  longer  waved  Aurora  from 
the  invalid's  sight.  When  the  lids  once  more  unclosed, 


THE  £0  T  IN  BL  HE.  269 

this  glorious  girl's  palm  clasped  the  cool  thin  hand  of 
the  child,  and  sent  a  subtle  something  of  her  own  vig- 
orous life  trembling  though  the  delicate  fibres  of  the 
smitten  refugee,  and  in  those  dark  eyes  grew  a  wonder- 
ing, incredulous,  asking  gaze. 

Then  the  beautiful  thin  lips  moved,  and  said  : 
"  Aurora — are  you  my  earthly  friend,  or  am  I  in  the 
spirit  land  ?" 

Then  the  lids  fell  again. 

"  I  am  your  friend,  and  we  are  with  the  living,  thank 
Heaven.  We  have  been  very  eager  for  this  hour,  but 
we  must  not  spend  it  in  talking." 

"  Tell  me  of  my  father,  and  if  I  am  in  Chattanooga 
again." 

"  I  do  not  know  your  father  nor  remember  you,  or  I 
would  be  glad  to  answer  you,  poor  child  !" 

"  Then  you  are  not  Aurora  Farnam,  and  I  am  dream- 
ing. This  is  too  sad  an  awakening.  I  thought  I  was  at 
'  Cairngorm.' " 

The  fancy  that  had  sometimes  flitted  over  Aurora's 
thoughts,  and  then  escaped — that  had  come  within  the 
distant  range  of  her  acute  senses,  and  then  sank  away, 
was  vivid  and  real  now,  by  a  conjuring  trick  of  sweet- 
ness in  the  voice  and  lip  of  the  speaker,  when  she  gave 
the  Scotch  accent  to  "  Cairngorm." 
"  Eemy  St.  Remy  !" 

"  I  am  in  Heaven.     No  one  knows  my  name  upon 
23* 


270  THE  B0  Y  &  £L  UE- 

earth.     Life  is  over  now  and  perhaps   I   can  find  my 
father,  my  poor,  poor  father  !" 

The  soldier  girl,  the  "  Boy  in  Blue"  sank  again  into 
a  deep  refreshing  sleep,  believing  she  was  in  Heaven, 
and  all  the  terrible  life  passed.  To  be  herself — a  woman 
again,  with  no  clinging  curse  clutching  at  the  friends 
she  loved,  and  who  brooded  her  in  their  homes  like  a 
shelterless  bird,  was  happiness  enough  for  her  weakened 
brain,  and  so  she  rested  in  the  first  peace  of  two  dreary 
years,  believing  she  had  drifted  away  from  earth  and  its 
battle-fields — from  life  and  its  partings. 

The  morning  had  not  yet  deepened  into  a  summer 
noon,  when  two  soldiers  sat  by  her  bed  side,  impatiently 
waiting  for  those  beautiful  eyes  to  open — and  sending 
up  silent  thanksgivings  that  through  all  the  sorrow  and 
doubt,  the  suffering  and  waiting,  these  three  beloved, 
had  met  at  last  even  though  upon  the  very  verge  of  the 
hither  shore  of  the  Dark  River. 

Eager  but  tender  were  the  two  faces  browned  by  ex- 
posure, and  furrowed  with  anxiety,  which  bent  over 
that  little  cot  and  its  slumbering  treasure. 

"  Where  has  my  poor  bird  been,  these  long,  long 
months?  Once,  almost  a  year  since,  a  message  of 
safety  came  and  nothing  since.  Two  years  she  must 
have  been  a  wanderer,  Berny,  but  the  angels  have 
guarded  her,  and  brought  her  to  us,"  and  so  the  glad 
father  cooed,  and  purred  over  his  darling,  not  daring  to 


THE  BOY  IN  SLUE.  271 

kiss  even  the  poor  pale  hands,  lest  life  should  flutter 
away  at  his  earthly  touch. 

At  mid-day  the  dark  dreamy  eyes  opened  again. 

"Father,  brother,  we  are  all  here  except  Leon.  I 
thought  you  would  leave  your  brown  faces  and  those 
garments — oh  I  cannot  be  glad  when  you  wear  those 
emblems  of  blood" — and  her  eyes  closed  again  heavily, 
shutting  out  these  reminders  of  her  soldier  life. 

O 

Then  when  the  big  tears  fell  upon  her  cheeks,  and  a 
kiss  touched  her  lips,  she  seemed  to  be  fully  awake,  and 
perfectly  conscious. 

"  My  father  and  my  brother,  thank  God  !"  and  the 
glowing  look  in  her  eyes,  and  over  her  face,  told  of  her 
intense  ecstacy,  and  the  kneeling  figures  and  bowed 
heads,  each  touching  softly  a  little  white  palm,  which 
held  all  the  world's  happiness  just  then,  made  the  place 
holy  with  human  love. 

The  long  stories,  and  the  tears  and  smiles,  they 
brought,  were  told,  little  by  little,  in  the  cool  dimness 
of  the  twilights  of  those  summer  days,  while  that  post 
was  garrisoned  with  Remy's  Regiment.  The  womanly 
apparel  that  had  been  a  wonder  because  of  its  graceful 
appropriateness,  was  brought  from  its  store  house  in 
Philadelphia,  and  the  Boy  in  Blue  became  again  the 
loveliest  girl  in  Tennessee,  but  even  now,  not  the  happi- 
est. 

She  did  not  relate  the  story  of  the  lost  son,  and 
brother,  and  how  a  Tender  Hand  had  brought  them 


272  THE  SOY  IN  BLUE. 

together.  She  feared  the  conflict  at  Vicksburg  might 
separate  them  forever,  and  her  father's  heart  be  torn  by 
a  second  sorrow.  She  was  so  thoroughly  womanly 
and  tender  in  her  love  ! 

Not  once  was  Carryl  Farnam's  name  mentioned  be- 
tween Remy  and  Aurora,  nor  did  Remy  dare  to  say 
that  her  own  hand  had  placed  perpetual  darkness  be- 
tween Hobart  Ringold  and  Aurora.  Fate  had  not  yet 
wrought  out  all  she  willed  for  these  two,  and  with  the 
sacredness  of  silence  which  belongs  to  great  and  deli- 
cate souled  women,  neither  spoke  of  the  ruin  which  had 
wasted  the  hearts  upon  which  they  once  leaned  with 
perfect  trust. 

Both  spent  their  days  in  soothing  pain,  and  giving  sis- 
terly counsel  and  saintly  prayers  for  those  whose  hope 
in  this  life  was  gone,  and,  who  only  waited  for  perpet- 
ual rest. 

Hokey  was  not  forgotten  in  these  grateful  days,  and 
he  wept  delicious  tears  of  joy  at  the  restoration  of  his 
pretty  "  missy,"  though  perhaps  a  bright  drop  or  two 
fell  at  the  memory  of  Dot,  who  was  down  in  Memphis, 
"skeered  to  death,"  because  Ringold  did  not  return. 
Plans  were  being  perfected  to  restore  the  colored  girl 
from  disguise,  and  heartache,  to  her  womanly  appear- 
ance, and  the  constant  affection  of  her  childhood's 
sweetheart. 

It  had  seemed  a  whole  winter,  and  spring  too,  to  the 
lonely  creature  before  even  January  had  gone  by,  but 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  273 

Dot's  patience  and  prudence  were  kept  alive  till  another 
yellow  cat  invaded  the  mysterious  realm  of  negro 
dreamland,  and  then  the  whole  of  her  virtues  of  silence 
and  discretion  oozed  away  in  just  one  minute. 

She  resolved  upon  some  desperate  expedient,  though 
what  shape  the  effort  was  to  take,  she  did  not  determine. 
When  Colonel  Trissilian  returned  with  General  Sherman 
from  his  unsuccessful  attack  upon  Vicksburg,  Dot  felt 
the  "  Providence  of  his  'pearing  just  after  the  cat,"  and 
consequently  gave  the  package  into  his  possession 
directly,  with  the  last  messages  of  his  lost  friend. 

Colonel  Trissilian  forgot  the  glitter  of  golden  hair 
and  the  twitter  of  a  sweet  coaxing  voice  in  his  eager- 
ness to  see  Jetty,  and  learn  something  of  his  compan- 
ion. Kitty  Allaire  was  second  in  his  affection  now. 

"  I  know  there  ain't  any  more  Ringold  in  this  world, 
Masser  Trissilian,  'course  they  isn't,  cause  I  had  sich  a 
dream,  and  then  its  eenamost  four  weeks,  and  he  said 
he'd  be  back  if  he  was  alive  in  two  months,  but  he  ain't 
alive  ;  they've  deaded  him  sure  nuff,  cause  I  feel'it  in  my 
poor  black  bones.  But  then  here's  his  will,  I  'spect, 
an  his  best  love  to  you.  He  said  I  mus'  give  it  to 
you  if  he  didn't  come  back,  an  not  to  give  it  to  you  if 
he  did,  an  he  didn't,  and  so  I  did,  <fec.  <fec." 

"  Never  mind,  Jetty,  I'll  take  the  parcel,  but  I  wont 
open  it  yet,  because  the  time  is  not  here  for  his  return, 
and  it  would  not  be  as  he  wished,  to  unseal  it  now.  I'll 
take  care  of  you,  if  he  never  comes  back,  so  wipe  your 


27-1  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

eyes,  and  hope  on.     That  yellow  cat  must  not  disturb 
you  so  frequently." 

Though  he  spoke  lightly  to  this  colored  friend,  there 
was  a  heavy  foreboding  at  his  heart,  and  he  wished  he 
could  purchase,  at  any  price,  security  for  his  mysterious 
Boy  in  Blue.  It  took  so  much  of  the  sunshine  out  of  life 
to  miss  him,  that  he  could  not  find  his  way  to  the 
Allaires'  until  the  days  had  worn  themselves  into  a 
week.  He  was  worn  in  body,  disappointed  in  his  mili- 
tary ambition,  and  aching  from  the  loss  he  felt  in  his 
heart. 

He  faced  the  perpetual  smile  at  last,  as  it  gleamed 
through  the  cloud  of  golden  ringlets  it  always  lived 
amidst,  and  for  a  moment  a  throb  of  regret,  and  self- 
reproach  at  his  want  of  affection  swept  over  him,  and 
then  died  into  positive  anger  as  Kitty  chirruped  : 

"  Ah,  you  hero  !  Thirty-four  stars  couldn't  find  room 
to  glow  and  sparkle  over  Vicksburg,  could  they, 
colonel  ?" 

He  heard  the  undertone  of  her  heart  in  this  banter- 
ing salutation.  It  was  a  sentence  to  himself.  He  knew 
then,  that  the  glamour  of  beauty,  and  the  popularity 
of  Federal  arms  had  deceived  him,  and  there  was  no 
truth  in  the  glowing  smile,  and  tropical  overflow  of 
sweet  words  that  had  rippled  over  the  lips,  and  through 
his  soul,  from  the  breath  of  Kitty  Allaire. 

He  dropped  the  velvety  hand,  and  touching  his  sword, 
replied : 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  275 

"  I  only  called  to  say  adieu  again,  until  after  I  shall 
stand  with  this  little  blade  glittering  over  the  walls  of  that 
obdurate  and  wicked  city.  I  have  little  time  for  society, 
and  less  for  those  who  pray  secretly  for  the  success  of 
rebellion — and  openly  claim  sympathy  with  Liberty 
because  it  happens  to  be  strongest.  Make  my  adieus  to 
your  family,  and  friends. — Good  morning,  Miss  Allaire." 

What  incisive  power  possessed  him  at  that  instant, 
who  shall  ever  know  ? 

It  comes  to  us  sometimes  in  our  peril,  as  if  there  was 
a  rift  in  the  veil  that  covers  our  dull  perceptions,  and 
for  a  moment  nothing  is  hidden  from  us,  or  else  the 
chrysalis  is  severed,  and  we  penetrate  beyond  the  range 
of  captive  mortality,  to  that  sphere  of  perfect  vision. 

Whatever  it  may  be,  Colonel  Trissilian  saw  decep- 
tion, through  the  lovely  mystery,  and  turned  away 
loathing. 

The  lettering  of  the  years  had  fallen  so  lightly  upon 
his  heart  before,  but  began  their  indentations  upon  his 
life  from  this  morning's  separation.  He  was  not  sur- 
prised when  a  few  days  afterwards  he  was  sitting  in 
court  martial,  examining  Reginald  Allaire,  charged 
with  being  a  spy,  and  listening  to  proofs  which  sent  the 
entire  family  beyond  the  lines. 

It  is  said  we  can  never  love  another,  and  then  cease, 
without  a  lingering  pain,  like  the  severing  of  a  portion 
of  ourselves,  but  there  was  no  suffering  in  Colonel 


276  WE  BOY  IN ~BL UE. 

Trissilian's  heart  that  was  not  smothered  by  the  deep 
yearning  he  felt  for  Ringold. 

Perhaps  he  never  loved  at  all,  but  was  only  charmed 
and  bewildered.  Certainly,  a  fair  face  under  a  shadow 
of  golden  hair,  and  a  low  monotonous  laugh  always 
makes  him  wonder  if  the  heart  be  full  of  womanly 
truth,  or  if  such  beauty  be  inseparable  from  the 
witchery,  and  falsehood  of  Kitty  Allaire. 

It  was  a  weary  winter,  for  the  toil  of  his  life  had 
nothing  in  it,  to  touch  it  to  brightness,  or  tone  it  with 
tenderness. 

The  Yazoo  expedition  and  its  strategetic  results,  with 
other  previous  military  labors,  brief  but  positive  in 
their  consequences,  occupied  the  latter  half  of  the 
winter,  and  a  portion  of  the  spring,  and  by  mid  May 
he  occupied  the  centre  of  the  Mississippi  army,  and 
entered  Jackson  again  with  our  victorious  army,  but 
with  a  spent  ball  in  his  side. 

Weary  marches,  and  constant  anxiety,  with  that 
other  leaden  burden  which  falls  and  remains  upon  a 
young  heart  when  the  first  doubt  of  human  truth 
comes — crushed  out  the  wonderful  vitality  that  had 
made  him  remarkable,  and  he  was  no  longer  able  to 
perform  field,  or  any  other  duty. 

O,  the  long,  long  days  that  fell  upon  the  poor  colonel, 
then !  He  had  made  arrangements  to  receive  the 
earliest  intelligence  that  Jetty  got  from  Ringold,  but 


THE  SO  T  IN  BL  HE.  277 

the  weeks  crept  slowly  away,  and  had  nothing  in  them 
but  impatient  waiting. 

One  twilight  when  endurance  seemed  to  have  been 
all  spent,  and  hope  had  almost  ebbed  away,  he  took 
from  his  bosom  the  sealed  package — the  last  token  of 
friendship,  and  confidence  from  the  dearest  companion 
his  almost  barren  life  had  known. 

Slowly  he  broke  the  seals  upon  the  knots  of  ribbon, 
and  then  carefully  untied  them,  thinking  all  the  while 
of  the  little  brown  hand  which  had  wrapped  them  so 
securely,  and  he  longed  to  touch  it  with  his  own  thin 
palm. 

In  the  heart  of  the  packet  lay  a  Cairngorm  cross, 
the  counterpart  of  his  own ! 

He  lifted  it,  turned  it  to  the  light,  and  then  smiled, 
and  said  to  himself,  "  what  a  strange  dream,  and  to  be 
semi-conscious  all  the  time  too  !  I'll  fall  away  again 
into  sleepy  land,  and  perhaps  see  the  boy,"  and  so  he 
turned  his  head  upon  his  pillow,  and  fell  asleep. 

The  day  hurried  into  the  dark,  and  when  he  awoke,  the 
dim  invalid's  lamp  was  lit,  and  he  smiled  again,  and 
thought  to  himself,  "  I  reproved  Jetty  for  his  notice  of 
dreams,  and  yet  I  received  this  fancy  of  a  Cairngorm 
cross  that  flitted  through  my  sick  head,  for  a  happy 
omen.  How  weak  I  am  !" 

Then  lifting  his  hand  he  found  the  cross  still  clasped 
tightly  in  his  wasted  fingers,  and  the  closely  written 
24 


278  THE 


letter  which  had  enclosed  it  —  but  the  lamps  were  so 
far  away  ! 

He  begged  his  attendant  to  bring  one  to  his  side,  but 
was  refused.  His  medical  watcher  would  permit  uo 
reading  in  the  night.  It  would  be  dangerous  to  nerves 
that  had  been  for  months  growing  more  and  more  sen- 
sitive. He  must  sleep. 

He  felt  the  form  of  a  jewel-circled  picture  case,  and 
whose  1 

All  night  he  toyed  with  the  mysterious  package,  and 
thought  the  morning  was  never  so  long  in  coming. 
His  fancies  conjured  strange  hieroglyphs  upon  the 
satiny  pages,  and  wove  wonderful  romances  uniting 
these  crystal  crosses  which  clung  to  one  through  the 
storm  upon  the  sea,  and  to  the  other  in  a  more  fearful 
rain  of  blood.  He  remembered  the  twilight  at  Cairo  a 
year  ago,  and  the  wonderful  change  that  followed  his 
confidential  hour  with  Ringold.  All  the  little  events 
of  that  time  were  vividly  retouched  in  memory,  and 
the  fainting  boy  whose  head  lay  heavy  and  help- 
less upon  the  table,  after  a  look  at  the  Cairngorm  cross, 
and  the  little  faded,  and  rumpled  shoe,  were  somehow 
tangled  together.  How  welcome  the  grey  in  the  East  ! 
How  beautiful  the  rosy  glow  that  bloomed  through  the 
sober  outer  curtain  of  the  morning  !  How  magnificent 
the  birth  of  Day  !  He  lifted  his  face  to  the  light,  but 
over,  and  through  the  pages  there  was  a  lovelier  gleam 


TEE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  279 

which  died  almost  out  into  the  sorrowful  mystery  and 
doubt  hanging  over  the  life  whose  strange  value  was 
now  comprehended. 

The  whole  morning  waned  before  he  folded  the 
manuscript,  and  lay  quietly  upon  his  pillow  thinking — 
thinking — thinking,  till  his  soul  throbbed,  and  raved  in 
his  attenuated  body,  because  it  could  not  reach  out  into 
the  dreary  woi'ld,  and  gather  into  its  eager  depths,  his 
lovely  friend,  his  beloved  sister ! 

A  sick  soul  makes  a  sick  body — and  those  attenuated 
limbs  and  hollow  cheeks  were  eloquent  with  the  story 
of  a  long  mental  agony.  He  was  too  human  to  leave 
the  lost  girl  in  the  tender  arms  of  the  same  Providence 
that  had  so  strangely  brought  them  together,  and  held 
them  by  the  mysterious  ties  of  Nature,  which  the  un- 
selfish heart  of  woman  did  not  explain  when  the 
twilight  at  Cairo  revealed  their  close  relationship.  She 
knew  that  the  beautiful  manhood  that  made  her  brother 
noble  and  loveable,  would  doom  her  to  an  inactive 
waiting,  and  give  him  immeasurable  anxiety  for  her 
safety,  and  happiness. 

Waiting  !  She  could  not  rest  till  the  doom  of  her 
country  was  fixed,  if  it  must  come,  and  she  was  in  that 
endless  sleep  after  the  fluttering  sound  of  death's  wings 
could  no  more  enter  her  listening  soul,  and  the  awaken- 
ing to  the  new  life  had  shut  out  the  pictures  in  memory 
that  were  dabbled  with  the  purple  of  lost  lives. 


280  THE  EOT  IN  £L UE. 

This  revelation  of  God's  omnipotence  in  bringing 
Leon  and  herself  together  had  lifted  her  soul  into  per- 
fect faith  in  His  loving  kindness,  and  tender  watchful- 
ness of  them. 

To  drift  side  by  side,  these  two  waifs  from  all  the 
restless,  loveless,  homeless  children  of  the  world,  and 
reveal  the  beautiful  tie  that  connected  them,  proved  all 
that  her  pious  imagination,  and  revelation  too,  had 
suggested  of  Divinity. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  she  bore  hopefully,  and 
calmly  the  suffering,  and  sorrows  of  Corinth,  and  the 
dreary  days  that  followed.  She  knew,  now,  that  she 
lay  in  the  Everlasting  Arms,  and  would  be  sheltered  and 
spared  for  the  Father's  uses,  and  at  last  be  enfolded — 
carefully  in  the  life  just  beyond. 

When  they  separated  at  Memphis,  she  believed  it 
was  only  just,  to  leave  the  proofs  of  their  relationship, 
both  for  his  own  sake,  and  the  father's,  if  he  should  sur- 
vive the  storm,  and  for  the  longing,  too,  that  her  sisterly 
heart  felt  to  be  remembered  with  an  affection  beyond 
that  which  friend  gives  to  friend. 

All  this  was  understood  now,  by  the  invalid,  and 
while  it  made  him  close  his  eyes  sometimes,  shuddering 
at  the  possible  in  Remy's  lonely  hunt  for  home,  it 
thrilled  a  quicker  beat  into  his  pulse,  and  sent  a 
healthier  throb  through  his  veins  to  think  of  the  living 
unknown  that  his  sister  had  portrayed — and  the  pitiful 
past  that  made  the  strange  portrait  he  gazed  upon, 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  281 

so  dear.  He  saw  something  of  himself  in  the  features. 
Here  and  there  a  curve,  or  color  was  like  his  own  be- 
fore exposure  had  bronzed,  and  hardened  the  outlines. 
A  strange  emotion  swayed  him  while  looking  at  the 
face  of  his  mother.  Often,  and  often  his  childish  fancy 
had  peered  beyond  the  Beautiful  gate,  and  dreamed 
of  the  manner  he  should  be  made  known  to  his  lost 
friends.  Was  it  memory,  or  the  talismanic  power  of 
human  love  that  had  left  this  very  face  in  his  soul  1 
He  had  met  it  in  sleep,  and  see  it  in  his  imagin- 
ings of  the  Heaven,  he  was  sometime  to  find.  He 
had  dreamed  of  his  mother  so  often,  and  a  face  very 
like  this,  only  sadder  and  paler,  had  made  the  shadow 
in  his  fancy,  and  the  lower  and  tenderer  tones  to  the 
scenes  which  his  imagination  showed  him  of  his  in- 
fancy. 

Since  reading  his  sister's  narration  of  the  mystery  of 
his  life,  his  mother  passed  from  his  vivid  fancies  to  the 
cloudy  outlines  of  an  indefinite  distance,  and  his  father, 
grand  and  self-sustained  in  the  night  of  a  great  sorrow, 
filled  the  picture. 

His  medical  attendant  saw,  and  felt  the  change  which 
a  few  hours  had  wrought,  and  suggested  the  propriety 
of  a  furlough,  as  soon  as  Colonel  Trissilian  could  be 
removed. 

A  balm  was  required,  that  could  not  be  found  in 
Hospital  atmosphere,  nor  in  the  Hygiene  of  any  author 

within  the  range  of  his  medical  experience,  or  reading. 
24* 


282 

To  detain  the  patient,  while  every  fibre  of  his  being 
was  stretching  itself  to  the  distance,  was  inhuman, 
because  there  was  no  hope  in  waiting. 

To  release  him  from  the  Grand  Army  if  there  was  a 
possibility  of  recovery,  was  to  take  away  one  of  its 
strongest  arms. 

This  was  the  surgeon's  thought,  as  he  concluded  his 
formula  of  furlough,  to  be  sent  to  the  commander,  and 
he  said  aloud  : 

"  To  stay  would  be  death  to  Colonel  Trissilian.  To 
go  where  his  eyes  range  in  their  strange  far  away  look, 
may  save  him." 


THE  £0  Y  IN  BL  UK  283 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

REMY  ST.  REMY'S  STORY. 
"  Too  pitiful  to  be  fiction,  and  too  true  for  a  moral." 

"  I  CANNOT  tell  you,  my  brother,  how  it  all  happened 
that  we  two  should  have  drifted  apart  in  infancy,  and 
then  floated  together  upon  the  wreck  of  our  country's 
peace.  The  separation  was  wrought  by  wrong,  but  the 
meeting  was  arranged  in  the  heart  of  the  All- 
Loving. 

"  You  are  my  brother.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of 
this.  Our  own  intuitions  almost  articulated  the  truth, 
before  the  proof  you  gave  me  at  Cairo. 

"  O  the  desolate,  desolate  hours  that  dragged  them- 
selves through  the  year,  till  that  day  !  The  balm  that  fol- 
lowed that  twilight ! 

"  It  would  only  make  your  heart  hard,  if  I  told  you 
why  I  was  driven  to  assume  the  costume  of  a  man.  It 
was  a  duty  I  owed  to  my  friends,  and  though  the  sorest 
trial  once,  to  my  woman  nature,  the  horrors  of  to-day, 
and  the  degradations  to  which  my  sex  are  forced  to  sub- 


284  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

mit,  by  the  chivalrous  secessionists,  make  it  nothing  to 
endure,  absolutely  nothing.  How  I  might  have  borne 
a  suspecting  look,  I  cannot  say.  I  suppose  I  should 
have  hidden  myself  in  some  other  position,  or  under 
some  other  disguise.  When  I  knew  you  were  my 
brother,  much  of  the  distress  of  my  indelicate  position 
vanished,  and  though  it  would  have  doubled  my  joy  to 
have  imparted  my  knowledge  of  our  relationship, 
I  knew  you  would  send  me  to  some  place  of  fancied  se- 
curity, and  been  wretched  in  my  absence. 

"  There  is  no  safety  for  me  as  Remy  St.  Remy,  so 
long  as  my  enemy  lives,  and  the  patriotic  North  is 
swarming  with  secret  traitors. 

"I  should  not  have  written  this,  except  that  you 
might  know  that  you  had  a  sister  whose  love  was 
stronger  than  woman's  fear,  and  a  father  somewhere  in 
the  wide  world  who  is  worthy  of  your  affection,  and 
who  would  be  proud  of  his  brave  boy — his  soldier  son. 
Perhaps  you  are  impatient  to  know  the  history  of  our 
family,  but  I  approach  it  with  a  shrinking,  which  you 
will  comprehend  as  you  read,  and  a  burning  in  my 
brown  cheeks  that  neither  time,  nor  suffering  will  wholly 
quench. 

"  I  have  thought  sometimes,  that  you  would  be  hap- 
pier to  live  in  doubt  of  the  years  which  have  passed  us 
since  we  were  infants,  but  I  know  too  well  your  pene- 
trative nature,  and  that  nothing  except  full  explanation 
will  satisfy  you. 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  285 

"  Our  father  is  of  French  and  Scotch  parentage,  and 
our  mother's  face, — you  can  see  how  beautiful  it  is,  in 
the  miniature  enclosed, — must  be  Saxon.  Her  golden 
curls,  and  heavenly  eyes  would  have  gathered  depth, 
and  fire  under  any  other  than  an  English  sky.  My 
father  only  told  me  that  she  was  dead,  and  when  I 
asked  for  more,  his  heavy  eyelids  fell,  and  an  ashen  film 
came  down  over  his  dark  face,  and  he  was  silent.  I 
knew  that  there  was  a  hallowed  spot  in  his  heart,  where 
something  sadder  than  a  grave  was  hidden,  but  I  dared 
not  desire  him  to  roll  away  the  stone  when  I  saw  how 
the  very  name  deepened  the  lines  about  his  expressive 
lips.  My  father  left  me  in  school  in  Paris  when  the 
alarm  of  war  pealed  forth,  but  I  followed  him  with 
Colonel,  and  Mrs.  Berry,  and  you  saw  your  sister  as 
Remy  St.  Remy,  and  afterward  as  the  Boy  in  Blue,  and 
your  devoted  friend.  You  know  how  I  left  them. 
When  I  reached  Philadelphia,  I  met  by  accident,  an  old 
playmate  and  companion,  just  arrived  from  Europe  to 
take  arms  against  his  people,  for  the  sake  of  right. 
His  name  was  Ringold.  We  consulted  together,  and 
exchanged  names,  when  our  plans  were  fixed.  He 
gave  me  a  copy  of  a  confession  which  he  said  was  his, 
and  my  own  sad  inheritance,  but  he  exacted  a  promise 
that  I  would  not  open  the  sealed  parcel  within  a  year, 
and  not  until  I  had  read  its  contents,  did  I  understand 
the  reason  of  the  postponement.  Had  I  been  as  unhap- 


786  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

pily  wise  then,  as  now,  you  would  not  have  known  me 
by  the  name  of  Ringold. 

"  He  fell  months  ago,  faeing  the  foes  of  freedom. 
His  mother's  safety  in  the  Confederacy  suggested  this 
precaution  of  enlistment,  and  you  can  understand  my 
reason  for  a  change  of  name.  I  will  not  pain  you  with 
the  entire  detail  of  the  story  in  the  sealed  envelope  he 
gave  me.  It  is  an  old,  old,  sad  one,  and  we  who  know 
not  our  own  hearts,  and  have  been  shielded  even  from 
ourselves,  tremble,  but  pass  no  sentence  of  condemna- 
tion. Whatever  the  world  may  have  said  before  the 
erring  woman  passed  from  its  fickle  memory,  will  not 
reach  us  now,  and  here,  and  we  can  only  cover  our  faces, 
and  with  humiliated  heads,  say,  '  She  was  our  mother, 
God  pity  and  forgive  her !'  I  must  preface  this  relation. 
There  were  three  of  us,  Abernethy.  Leon  Trissilian,  and 
Margueritte.  The  last  was  my  mother's  name,  and 
when  she  was  my  mother  no  longer,  the  name  seemed 
to  have  passed  away  too,  and  when  I  did  not  hear  it,  I 
refused  to  acknowledge  any,  and  called  myself  by  my 
last  appellation,  and  it  was  taken  up  by  the  servants  and 
household,  without  any  remark  that  I  can  recall.  When 
we  were  children,  before  this  sad  epoch  in  our  family, 
and  I  was  only  a  babe  in  my  mother's  bosom,  we  went 
abroad. 

There  was  little  culture  in  the  new  home  of  East 
Tennessee,  and  my  father  desired  better  educational 


THE  BOY  IN  SLUE.  037 

advantages  for  us  all.  The  Ringolds'  lived  upon  their 
plantation  a  few  miles  from  us — and  our  households 
had  been  inseparable.  They  went  with  us  over  the 
ocean.  There  were  two  sons,  and  their  ages  were  about 
the  same  as  Berny's  and  your  own.  I  suppose  no  hap 
pier  party  ever  spanned  the  Atlantic,  than  ours.  We 
went  to  Scotland  where  our  father  took  possession 
of  an  inheritance,  from  his*  grandfather  and  but  that  he 
loved  America  so  well,  would  have  led  the  life  that 
glides  on  so  smoothly  to  the  rich,  in  the  Old  World.  The 
name  of  this  ancestral  spot  was,  "  Cairngorm,"  from 
which  our  Tennessee  home  received  its  title.  Our  moth- 
er had  seen  little  of.  the  world  in  its  gayest  moods,  and 
forms,  and  it  bewildered  her.  She  could  not  resist  its 
allurements,  or  she  thought  she  could  not,  and  while 
our  father  was  gathering  the  riches  of  art  and  science  into 
his  life,  and  thoughts,  she  was  pining  for  the  fictions  of 
society  and  the  flattering  attentions  which  Paris  knows 
so  well  how  to  bestow.  Few  women  were  so  beautiful, 
and  wherever  she  went,  eager  admiring  eyes  followed. 
Sometimes  she  uttered  her  discontent  at  our  quiet  life,  and 
this  and  this  only  is  the  palliative  portion  of  the  confes- 
sion which  young  Ringold  placed  in  my  hands.  Our 
father  did  not  comprehend  her  longing  for  that  which 
was  simply  foolish  and  repelling  to  him.  Mrs.  Ringold 
who  was  an  eager  gatherer  of  knowledge,  and  a  wor- 
shipper of  the  beautiful,  found  all  the  food  she  required 
for  her  brain  and  soul  hunger,  in  this  wealth  of  literary, 


288  THE  £0  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

and  artistic  successes  of  generations,  and  asked  nothing 

more  of  charming  Paris.     Mr.  Ringold  possessed  his 

. 
share  of  vanity,  so  his  confession  declares,  and  one  can 

easily  believe  it.  He,  too,  found  Paris  gaiety  delightful, 
and  to  be  the  handsomest  man,  and  the  escort  of  the 
most  beautiful  American  woman,  was  his  ambition  at 
the  beginning,  and  nothing  more,  as  his  dying  testimony 
avers. 

"  From  the  almost  primitive  habits  of  domestic  life 
in  the  New  World,  to  the  free  one  of  the  French  capital, 
seemed  to  be  a  natural  transition  to  Mrs.  St.  Eemy  and 
Mr.  Ringold,  and  they  slid  rapidly  from  the  quiet  uni- 
formity of  one,  to  the  extravagant  revelry  of  the  other. 
Mr.  St.  Remy  loved  his  wife,  and  to  love,  with  him, 
was  to  trust  wholly.  He  loved  his  friend,  too,  and  the 
same  confidence  lay  between  them.  If  he  regretted  that 
his  wife  did  not  enjoy  the  same  pleasure  as  himself,  he 
did  not  reproach  her.  He  thought  satiety  would  come 
presently,  and  cure  her  of  her  attachment  to  the  frivo- 
lous new  life. 

"  Mrs.  Ringold  wandered  with  her  eldest  boy  where- 
ever  she  could  gather  a  thought  of  beauty  fitted  for  his 
young  mind,  or  could  lay  away  something  for  his  com- 
ing manhood.  She  loved  her  husband  but  not  with  that 
confiding  lifting  love  that  one  feels  for  their  ideal,  but 
with  a  tenderness  that  years  of  pleasant  association 
brings.  She  neither  expected  nor  scarcely  desired  his 
society  iii  these  daily  excursions.  Their  eyes  would 


THE  BOY  IX  BLUE.  289 

have  gathered  such  different  meanings  from  the  visions 
of  grandeur,  or  Ipveliness  that  seemed  to  her,  almost 
endless.  When  Tife  had  almost  drifted  away  Mr.  Rin- 
gold  saw  this,  and  understood  it  as  he  looked  back,  am] 
added  it  to  other  tributes  which  he  paid  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  woman  who  had  borne  for  him  the  holiest  of 
relations.  Now  and  then  Mr.  St.  Remy  entered  a  club- 
room  where  the  literary  and  political  stars  illuminated 
each  other,  and  where  they  let  themselves  down  to 
Paris  littleness,  when  the  great  occasion  for  mental 
brilliancy  had  gone  by,  and  here  he  received  the  blow 
which  laid  his  happiness  in  a  grave,  deeper  than  the 
sea. 

"  They  who  have  heard  a  group  of  thoughtless  men  sneer 
away  a  woman's  reputation,  will  understand  how  this 
deed,  which  is  blacker  than  the  Recording  Angel  can 
make  it  with  his  stylet  of  darkness,  was  done. 

"  That  the  mood  of  discontent,  and  perhaps,  the  fancy 
of  neglect,  was  upon  the  poor  weak  woman,  when  the 
story  was  told,  and  she  admitted  a  rega"d  for  her 
friend  which  was  born  of  Mr.  Ringold's  delicate  flattery 
and  nothing  more,  may  be  imagined. 

"  Our  father's  blood  boiling  with  Scotch  indignation, 
and  French  fire,  may  have  seethed  too  hotly  over  her 
weak  heart  and  quiet  conscience,  and  the  reproaches 
been  too  bitter ! 

"  The  blow  fell  with  as  much  weight  upon  the  pride  of 
Mrs.  Ringold,  as  it  did  upon  the  affection  of  her  com- 
25 


290  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

panion  in  sorrow.  She  sailed  that  night  for  America 
with  her  two  children,  and  left  to  his  fate,  a  man  who 
had  wrecked  two  households.  She  had  learned  too 
surely  how  much  pleasure  her  husband  had  felt  in  being 
the  lion  of  a  gossip,  in  the  most  fashionable  club-house 
in  Paris. 

"  Not  that  she  believed  his  regard  for  Mrs.  St.  Remy 
was  either  deep  or  criminal,  but  his  detestable  vanity 
which  had  grown  in  the  favourable  atmosphere  of  fash- 
ionable life,  had  wrought  all  this,  and  she  despised  him 
to  the  core  of  her  deep  woman's  nature. 

"  Mr.  St.  Remy's  interview  with  him,  only  ended  in  an 
offer  from  his  enemy  to  make  amends  with  short 
swords,  or  pistols,  neither  of  which  was  accepted. 

"  The  memory  of  the  little  helpless  children,  saved  him 
from  falling  into  this  temptation,  for  it  was  an  allure- 
ment greater  than  could  be  written  in  words,  and  his 
antagonist  felt,  and  recorded  the  struggle  in  that  last 
act  of  confession;  but  for  the  time  the  fiend  in  Rin 
gold's  nature  triumphed. 

"Mr.  St.  Remy  turned  away  from  the  man  who  ha:l 
taken  away  his  happiness,  and  in  a  miserable  hopeless 
way  offered  the  woman  who  had  been  the  white  dove 
in  their  western  nest,  the  choice  of  seclusion  with  hot- 
children,  and  the  outward  position  of  wife — or  to  be 
left  in  the  charmed  city — and  she  accepted  the  latter. 
Perhaps  he  knew  she  would.  Perhaps  he  had  no  cour- 
age to  meet  the  future  with  a  wasted  soul  fettered  to 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  29 1 

his  own,  and  yet  in  his  abject  sorrow  he  was  pitiful. 
He  gave  her  the  second  child,  partly  because  his  sunny 
face  would  forever  remind  him  of  his  exorcised  gladness, 
and  partly  that  he  thought  her  safer  with  the  little  arms 
about  her  in  that  strange  land.  His  daughter  must  grow 
away  from  the  mother  heart  because  it  was  too 
stained  to  nurture  her  into  a  rich,  ripe  womanhood,  and 
so  with  a  profuse  settlement  upon  Mrs.  St.  Remy  ho 
faced  the  west  with  a  breaking  heart,  and  entered  his 
own  door  with  a  deeper  grief  than  he  could  have 
brought  from  a  rounded  grave. 

"/The  current  of  scandal  that  rippled  through  the 
drawing  rooms  and  coteries  of  Paris,  was  so  much 

O  ' 

delicious  adulation  to  the  author  of  this  great  sorrow, 
and  he  was  at  once  adopted  into  the  selectest  sets,  and 
the  woman  was  left  out. 

"  Neither  you  nor  I,  Leon,  will  believe  that  it  was  this, 
that  wrought  out  her  resolution  to  seek  her  husband, 
and  plead  his  forgiveness  for  frivolity,  and  tell  him  that 
her  heart  had  never  swerved  from  its  allegiance,  only 
that  a  glamour  was  over  her,  and  she  saw  through  other 
eyes  in  that  first  hour.  She  never  met  Mr.  Ringold 
after  his  interview  with  Mr.  St.  Remy,  and  she  wrote 
to  our  father  in  a  pitiful  way  explaining  the  potent  in- 
fluences that  swayed  her,  and  yet  in  the  vibrations  of  her 
life  she  had  always  come  back  to  rest  her  woman's 
heart  in  her  husband's  love.  The  next  packet  took  her- 
self, thus  hei-alded,  back  to  the  land  of  her  innocence 


292  1HE  BO  r  JX  BL  UE. 

and  happiness,  only  to  be  dashed  upon  its  merciless 
shores  with  her  little  Leon  and  perish  in  penitence,  be- 
before  she  could  receive  the  kiss  of  absolution  from 
waiting  lips. 

"  Her  grief  and  purpose  were  explained  in  a  parting 
note  to  Mr.  Ringold,  begging  him  to  assure  her  husband 
by  letter,  that  she  was  not  the  guilty  thing,  that  busy, 
and  wicked  tongues  had  named  her  in  the  free  conver, 
saziones  of  Paris. 

"  Where  his  vicious  spirit  had  been  lulled  all  his  life,  we 
cannot  understand,  but  his  refusal  to  give  this  attestation, 
was  the  bitterest  remembrance  of  his  last  hours. 

"  Heaven  spared  her  this  knowledge,  and  was  perhaps 
most  merciful  when  the  waves  were  fiercest,  and  the 
hungry  waters  swallowed  her  away  from  the  uncharitable 
world,  where  her  silky  tresses  of  fibrous  gold  were  the 
envy  of  less  beautiful  womanhood,  never  any  more. 

"  What  dizzy  heights  of  noble  resolve  her  poor  soul 
climbed  in  those  desolate  days  upon  the  ocean,  and  to 
what  deathly  depths  of  regret  she  sank,  none  but  the 
angels  know,  but  we,  her  children,  judge  from  our  ovtn 
hearts  and  believe,  and  afterward  forgive  by  our  own 
love  for  the  unremembered. 

"  I  will  not  pain  you,  my  brother,  with  more  of  the 
contents  of  this  remorseful  letter  to  Mr.  Ringold's 
household,  and  our  own,  and  if  I  have  lightened  the 
coloring  of  the  story,  it  is  because  the  veil  of  charity 
should  be  stretched  for  us  all.  I  will  re-write  the  clos- 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK  293 

ing  portion  of  the  last  words  of  a  wretched,  inactive 
life,  which  spent  itself  in  luxurious  sin,  and  in  an 
insatiate  pursuit  of  the  vanities  of  France.  Then  the 
recoil  came.  Self-torture  took  the  place  of  pleasure, 
and  he  was  scourged,  and  not  comforted  by  the 
presence  of  his  son,  so  like  his  mother !  Every  beauti- 
tiful  characteristic  of  her's  manifested  itself  through  the 
tenderness  and  thoughjfulness  of  his  every  act  and 
word. 

"  This  is  his  testimony,  and  because  of  his  penitence, 
we  will  forgive  him  : 

"  '  My  life  is  nothing  but  background  now,  and  its  sky 
impenetrable  clouds,  and  very  black.  I  can  see  it  all 
from  my  last  pillow,  as  I  lie  here  with  only  suffering  in 
this  world,  and  no  hope  beyond.  I  have  been  granite 
to  others,  and  now  the  Heavens  are  granite  to  me. 

" '  I  was  unmerciful  to  my  wife,  and  she  was  an  angel, 
and  as  pure  as  if  she  had  always  walked  the  golden 
streets  in  the  white  of  everlasting  purity.  I  was  un- 
merciful to  my  boyhood's  friend,  and  kept  silence  when 
a  word  would  have  spared  him  a  lifetime  of  pain. 
The  poor  bird  that  fluttered  under  my  touch,  has  flown 
to  the  upper  world,  through  the  breakers  of  a  relentless 
sea,  and  I  sent  her  to  her  doom,  but  she  entered  Heaven 
unsullied,  except  by  the  breath  of  a  bad  world,  whose 
pestilent  airs  were  fanned  by  one  whose  torture  is 
immeasurable,  and  whose  remorse  cannot  be  articulated. 
25* 


294  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE. 

\  cannot  ask  Christ  to  pity  me,  because  I  hare  shown 
no  pity  to  others. 

"  '  O  the  wretched,  wretched  now  !  O  the  terrible, 
terrible,  Hereafter  !  I  have  blasted  hopes,  and  broken 
hearts  ! 

" '  I  have  made  my  own  children  fatherless,  and  my 
wife  a  widow,  but  I  ask  no  pardon,  because  I  expect  no 
forgiveness.  The  plenitude  of  pity  is  not  for  me,  and 
the  prayers  of  the  sainted  would  be  wasted  upon  so 
black  a  soul.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  think  kindly  of  me 
for  you  cannot,  but  if  your  thoughts  do  sometimes 
wander  to  my  life,  think  of  what  it  might  have  been, 
and  blot  the  real  picture  forever  from  your  memories. 
Farewell !' 

"  That  he  suffered  and  died  without  hope  is  enough. 
We  will  accord  him  the  forgiveness  he  would  not  ask. 
Though  the  very  agony  that  withheld  the  petition, 
proves  how  his  soul  longed  for  the  peace  of  pardon. 

"  You  may  show  this  to  our  father,  if  you  should 
ever  meet  him  in  this  life,  but  if  your  heart  should 
prompt  you  to  withhold  it,  there  is  no  charge  laid  upon 
you.  The  miniature  of  our  mother  will  be  safe  in 
your  bosom.  The  Cairngorm  cross  is  a  family 
emblem,  and  I  leave  this  one  to  prove  our  fraternity. 
I  have  another,  which  I  always  wear.  Should  the  old 
home  in  Chattanooga  be  safe  from  harm,  you  will  find 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  295 

a  mate  to  the  little  shoe  among  our  father's  treasures. 
He  found  it  upon  the  shore  where  he  wandered  after 
the  storm,  supposing  the  surf  had  beat  out  two  darling 
lives,  whose  loveliness  only,  was  now  remembered. 

"  I  must  find  my  father,  and  my  other  brother,  or  die. 
Suspense  is  killing  me,  now  that  I  cannot  stand  by  your 
side  in  the  battle,  or  watch  by  your  bed  in  the  fate  that 
I  am  certain  will  fall  upon  you,  whose  self-forgetfulness 
covers  every  act,  in  the  field. 

"  You  will  care  for  Jetty,  if  you  survive,  for  she  has 
been  faithful  under  her  disguise,  and  acted  the  role  of 
valet,  with  a  marvelous  dexterity.  Let  her  assume  her 
proper  costume,  and  if  possible  restore  her  to  our 

family.     If  they  are 1  cannot  write  the  sickening 

word, — send  her  to  Mrs.  Berry,  who  for  my  sake,  will 
teach  her  in  better  ways  than  I  could  have  done. 

"  And  now  I  come  to  a  duty,  from  which  my  woman's 
heart  recoils.  It  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  enter  the  holy 
of  holies,  even  with  a  beloved  brother,  but  believing 
these  pages  will  not  be  read  until  my  grave  is  made, 
and  my  voice  cannot  come  back  to  offer  consolation  to 
the  few  who  will  grieve  for  me,  I  will  say  the  words 
now,  and  leave  your  own  lips  to  repeat  them,  if  they 
will  be  a  balm  to  my  distant  friends.  You  know, 
because  you  saw  and  felt  it,  how  Colonel  Berry  loved 
your  lost  sister.  He  did  not  recognize  Remy  St.  Remy 
in  his  "  Boy  in  Blue,"  because  I  trained  my  voice  and 
features  to  delude  him,  and  yet  the  inexplicable  soul-in- 


296  THE  £0  Y IN  EL  UE- 

fluences  which  we  cannot  control,  touched  him  when  we 
met,  and  though  he  thought  I  was  only  a  reminder  of 
his  wandering  friend,  I  knew  it  was  the  life  of  my  life, 
wrapping  his  spirit  in  an  unending  enfolding,  How  I 
trembled  in  his  presence,  when  his  eyes  laid  their  level 
penetrative  gaze  within  my  own  !  I  feared  the  very 
silence  would  utter  my  name  to  him.  And  so  \ve 
parted.  Had  I  revealed  myself,  who  would  have  been 
safe,  that  protected  rne?  He  will  not,  cannot  love 
another  woman,  and  you  may  tell  him  I  wait  and  watch 
for  him  upon  the  everlasting  hills.  He  will  not  grieve 
too  much,  for  he  has  faith,  and  patience.  He  is  opulent 
in  the  best  attributes  of  magnificent  manhood,  and  the 
world,  and  liberty  has  need  of  him,  and  of  you.  Love 
each  other,  and  sometimes  speak  of  Remy. 

"  Remember  me  as  your  sister,  and  your  friend. 
Don't  forget  me  as  the  "  Boy  in  Blue,"  for  when  I  can 
lay  aside  the  memory  of  the  old  prejudices  of  apparel, 
I  think  of  my  lad's  life,  with  a  painful  pleasure. 

"  I  am  glad  that  I  could  serve  my  country,  and  you, 
though  in  even  so  slight  and  trivial  a  way. 

"  With  the  deepest  love,  and  the  sincerest  prayer  f«-r 
all  who  love  me,  and  for  my  country,  that  I  love  better 
than  all,  I  am  ia  death,  as  in  life, 

"Your  devoted  friend,  and  sister, 

"REMY  ST.  REMY." 

"  To  Leon  Trissilian  St.  Remy. 

"  Memphis,  January,  1863." 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  297 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  fever  settled  deeper  in  the 
cheek  of  Colonel  St.  Eemy  when  he  knew  how  the 
treasure  of  love  had  been  with  him  unrecognized,  and 
then  slipped  away  when  he  needed  it  most.  How  he 
trembled  when  he  remembered  the  battle  scene  of 
Pittsburg  Landing,  and  the  terrible  march  to  Corinth. 
The  Boy  in  Blue  had  been  his  wonder  then,  but  was  his 
worship  now. 

He  remembered  all  the  tender  and  womanly  ways 
that  had  made  his  suffering  after  Donnelson,  not  only 
tolerable,  but  almost  a  pleasure.  He  remembered  her 
abiding  faith  in  an  unseen  God,  and  the  beautiful  devo- 
tion which  was  delicate,  but  not  shamefaced,  in  its  out- 
ward  expressions.  He  remembered  the  graceful  bowed 
figure,  and  silent  prayers,  which  always  caused  him  to 
uncover  his  head,  but  never  brought  a  word  to  his  lips. 
A  thousand  memories  made  him  clench  his  thin  hands, 
because  he  did  not  interpret  them  before.  Then  he 
would  stretch  them  forth  wildly,  as  if  he  would  grasp 
her  in  his  arms,  and  then  fall  'quivering,  and  helpless 
upon  the  white  cover  to  his  hospital  bed.  If  his  attend- 
ants thought  him  delirious,  it  was  not  strange,  but  he, 
alas  !  was  too  sane. 

****** 

It  was  no  easy  thing  to  transfer  a  feeble  man  to 
Memphis,  but  it  was  the  only  hope,  and  with  powerful 
stimulants,  and  careful  attendants,  he  started  to  bridge 
the  rough  distance,  between  himself,  and  he  knew  not 


298  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

what,  only  somewhere,  that  seemed  like  following  the 
lost   girl.     The  Fifteenth  Army  Corps  had    advanced 
toward  Vicksburg,  and  the  idle  life,  had  he  remained  at 
Jackson,  would   have  made   a  speedy  grave   for  him. 
Slowly  the  days  went  by,  as  he  followed  like  a  rear 
guard  the   grand  attacking  army.     At  last  they  were 
upon  the  shore  of  the  Mississippi,  and  its  murky  waters 
looked  beautiful  to  the  desolate  eyes  of  the  suffering 
man.     The  transit  up  the  river  was  made  with  compara- 
tive comfort,  but  the  days  of  inactivity  were  scarcely 
less  tolerable  there,  even  with  Jetty  transformed  into 
Dot,  to  watch  for  every  asking  look,  and  to  talk  of  the 
dear  old  times,  and  the  lost  lady.     The  poor  black  girl 
only  knew  that  it  was  her  mistress'  wish  that  she  should 
lay  aside  her  boy's  attire,  and  be  Dot  again,  and  it  was 
a  desire  only  too  gladly  complied  with.     She  knew  that 
there  was  no  longer  a  reason  for  silence,  and  one  must 
become  a  negro  to  understand  the  delight  of  lingual 
freedom.     Everything  she  said  was  interesting  to  her 
master,  now,  for  it  came  like  a  revelation  of  the  life 
from  which  he  had  been  excluded.     Episodes   in    the 
childhood  of  "Missy  Remy,"  of  which  she  would  not 
have  uttered  a  syllable  had  she  not  been  sure  the  lady 
was  dead,  were  related  with  absurd  additions  from  her 
own  fantastic  imagination.     If  the  listener  separated  the 
real  from  the  fanciful,  we  do  not  know,  for  in  after  days 
he  persisted  in  repeating  the  legends  as  they  came  to 
him 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE,  299 

Every  whim  of  Dot's  was  indulged,  until  she  was 
very  near  being  spoiled.  From  the  day  that  the  ban- 
dana was  knotted  about  her  head,  and  the  gayest  of 
colors  swam  over  her  rotund  figure,*her  womanly  delight 
in  decoration  was  indulged  to  the  border  of  extrava- 
gance. 

She  would  wipe  her  eyes  after  a  touching  relation  of 
old  time  scenes,  and  say  : 

"  Massa  Trissilian,  I'se  sufferin  for  side  combs  in  my 
har.  All  spectable  collud  pussons  wears  em  now. 
They  is  gold  like,  only  they  isn't  spensive,  an  keeps  a 
body's  curls  out  of  em  eyes.  Missy  Remy  allus  got  em 
for  me,  allus." 

It  was  not  side  combs  that  let  the  tears  fall  from  her 
black  lids,  and  lay  like  glittering  globes  upon  her 
cheeks,  but  it  was  that  curious  mixture  of  the  tragic, 
and  comic,  which  makes  up  the  sum  of  the  African 
character. 

Dot  did  'mourn  for  her  mistress,  as  her  prayers,  and 
weeping  in  the  silence  of  the  night  could  attest,  but  the 
bubbles  of  merriment  which  have  lifted  many  a  sinking 
heart  in  its  bondage  of  cruelty,  ran  over  in  her  nature, 
in  countless  quaint  shapes,  and  colors. 

Colonel  Leon  St.  Remy's  perfect  physical  organiza- 
tion, asserted  a  supremacy  over  disease,  at  last,  and  it 
was  evident  that  he  was  mending.  He  knew  that  his  coun- 
try had  need  of  him,  but  it  was  hard  to  turn  back  from 
seeking  his  sister,  alive  or  dead,  as  soon  as  strength  re- 


300  THE  B0  Y  IN 


turned.  Many  and  many  a  fierce  battle  was  fought 
with  his  own  heart  before  he  could  trust  her  to  God. 
His  resignation  was  not  offered  to  the  War  Depart- 
ment, though  he  would  have  suffered  the  horrors  of 
martyrdom  in  the  flesh,  to  have  reconciled  inclination, 
with  a  high  sense  of  duty,  and  honor.  This  very  struggle 
held  him  in  his  invalid's  chair,  and  saved  him  for  the 
happiness  of  which  he  only  dreamed.  Hid  health 
come  sooner,  who  can  say  that  his  grave  might  not  have 
been  in  the  shadow  of  Vicksburg  ? 

This  year,  another  value  was  added  to  our  country's 
birth  day  ! 

The  Gibralter  of  America  —  the  Fortress  of  anarchy 
fell,  and  Vicksburg  was  ours  ! 

The  cannon's  voice  held  another  meaning,  when  it 
thundered  it's  good  night  to  the  patriots  of  the  North, 
upon  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  July,  1863  !  There  were 
tears  of  gladness  for  the  triumph,  and  tears  of  fear  for 
those  who  fought,  and  might  have  fallen,  un  !er  the  veil 
of  twilight  after  that  glorious  anniversary  ! 

Colonel  Leon  St.  Remy  exulted,  because  his  own 
Fifteenth  had  been  so  brave,  and  wept  rebellions  tears, 
because  his  hand  and  voice  had  not  helped  the  victorious. 
Forgive  him,  for  the  flesh  was  very  weak  ! 

The  day  he  arrived  at  Memphis,  he  caused  a  letter 
to  be  written  to  Colonel  Berry,  relating  the  story  of 
his  illness,  and  his  parentage,  together  with  the  loss  of 
his  sister.  He  appealed  to  him  in  the  name  of  un- 


THE  BO  Y  IN  EL  UK  30  ] 

broken  friendship,  to  devise  some  means  of  restoring 
the  child  to  her  friends  or  procuring  her  beloved  body, 
for  Christian  burial.  He  was  not  weak  enough  to  lay 
his  sister's  heart  open  to  his  friend,  until  he  was  certain 
it  would  not  give  him  greater  pain  than  pleasure. 
Suppose  he  could  not  procure  release  ?  Suppose  there 
was  no  hint  in  his  rich  brain  which  could  relieve  him 
of  this  poverty  of  resource  ? 

Whatever  the  reply,  he  knew  there  would  be  some 
hope  in  it,  but  the  days  were  so  hot,  and  long,  and  the  soli- 
tude of  a  sick  chamber  so  deep  ! 

Waiting  was  the  hardest  portion  of  his  trial,  and  to 
record  the  history  faithfully,  demands  the  fact,  that  he 
was  not  patient,  nor  saintly.  %  He  was  simply  a  man, 
all  restlessness  and  petulance,  and  that  was  all.  The 
broken  hopes  of  his  young  life  were  all  he  had  left  of  a 
youth,  never  too  full  of  happiness,  but  this  he  gave  to  his 
country,  and  so  we  can  forgive  impatience. 

26 


302  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

HOW    THEY    MET. 

"  Never  a  sigh  so  soft,  and  low, 

That  the  angel,  hearing,  does  not  weep  ; 

Yet  never  a  wail  so  full  of  woe, 
As  to  stay  the  pendulum  in  its  sweep." 

MURFREESBORO  had  gained  in  its  heroic  soldiery  from 
the  mountains  in  the  East,  and  overflowed  into  Grant's 
army. 

Nothing  could  have  suited  the  St.  Remys  so  well, 
except  a  victory  of  our  arms.  Remy  had  been  pro- 
posing Aurora  to  go  where  the  wounded  Loyalists  de- 
manded womanly  tenderness,  and  care,  as  there  was 
little  in  their  own  garrison  for  their  hands  to  do.  Now 
the  way  was  opened  by  the  same  overruling  Hand  that 
had  led  her  in  safe  paths  hitherto. 

At  Memphis  once  more,  the  glorious  news  reached 
them  of  the  enemy's  defeat,  upon  the  river.  It  was  the 
sixth  of  July,  but  they  held  jubilee  in  their  hearts,  as 
if  it  were  the  rightful  day  for  rejoicing. 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE.  303 

Proudly,  Colonel  Berny  St.  Remy  inarched  his  mus- 
cular soldiery  through  the  city  to  Headquarters,  while 
Mr.  St.  Remy,  Mr.  and  Miss  Farnam,  Remy  and  Hokey 
sought  the  Allaires,  with  Hokey,  to  learn  tidings  of 
poor  Dot,  and  Leon. 

There  is  no  artist  to  portray  it,  and  no  words  to  de- 
scibe  it,  that  meeting  then  and  there  between  the  red 
bandana  who  opened  the  door,  and  the  demure  gentle- 
man of  color  who  was  caught  clinging  to  the  bell  pull. 
A  laugh,  and  a  scream  blended  very  closely,  and  loudly 
together,  and  four  black  arms  just  as  closely  interlocked, 
followed  by  kisses,  brief  prayers,  and  very  inappropri- 
ate texts  of  Scripture,  in  the  most  rapid  succession, 
quite  regardless  of  the  friends  who  understood,  and 
the  spectators  who  did  not,  made  up  the  spectacle. 
To  Remy,  who  could  comprehend  all  the  waiting,  and 
the  longing  for  this  meeting,  it  was  too  pathetic  for 
smiles ;  but  to  the  outer  circle  who  had  gathered  upon 
the  pavement  about  the  scene,  it  was  ludicrous  in  the 
extreme.  Colonel  Trissilian  heard  the  wild  intermin- 
gling of  Dot's  best  soprano,  with  the  rise  and  fall 
of  the  notes  of  somebody's  vocal  trombone  which  was 
evidently  keyed  from  the  negro  elements  of  sound.  It 
seemed  to  his  strained,  and  impatient  ear,  interminable. 
Fastened  to  his  chair  by  the  weakness  that  still 
lingered,  the  blood  surged  through  his  veins,  roused  by 
the  possible  which  Dot's  joy  suggested,  and  then  as  if 
the  spirit  refused  to  linger  under  the  veil  of  the  flesh, 


304  THE 

he  saw  her — his  lost  sister  within  a  group  of  strange 
faces,  and  yet  one  of  them,  the  tallest — he  knew. 

How  his  memory  lifted  his  father's  face  from  the 
past, — changed  and  older  by  near  a  score  of  years,  and 
a  hundred  cycles  of  suffering,  we  cannot  tell,  but  he  saw 
and  remembered  it,  while  sitting  in  his  chair  within  his 
closed  chamber,  that  summer  morning.  Philosophy 
finds  ways  of  reconciling  strange  phenomena,  with  the 
laws  of  Nature,  and  would  prove  the  Colonel  of  un- 
sound mind,  and  body,  but  he  never  felt  so  thoroughly 
a  perfect  being,  as  at  this  moment,  and  yet  he  was  fixed 
as  a  statue  in  ihefauteuil  where  Dot  left  him. 

The  pendulum  moved  on,  and  voices  will  weary,  so 
the  sounds  died  out  at  last,  and  other  greetings  to  Dot, 
musical,  and  cheery,  vibrated  through  the  halls,  and 
told  the  story  of  the  wanderer's  return,  though  with  no 
surer  proof  than  his  spirit  eyes  had  given  him. 

By  and  by,  a  footfall  which  he  knew  so  well,  by 
its  firm  soft  tread,  ascended  the  stairs  with  the  bobbing 
style  of  Dot  mingling  in  the  echo,  and  a  conference  in 
an  adjoining  room  ended  in  a  tap, — a  touch  so  character- 
istic,  that  the  colonel  replied : 

"  Come  in,  Remy,"  and  the  girl's  beautiful  arms 
wound  about  his  neck,  and  laid  his  silky  curls,  and 
white  face  upon  her  bosom,  she,  cooing  a  wordless  greet- 
ing in  his  ears,  so  sweet  that  he  almost  believed  he  had 
died  in  his  last  night's  sleep;  and  was  with  his  sister  in  the 
Better  Land. 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  UK  305 

She  unfolded  her  arms  and  kissed  his  cheeks  and 
brow,  and  then  laid  his  head  back  upon  the  pillow  sup- 
ported by  his  chair,  and  stood  apart  and  looked  into  hh 
eyes,  with  her  own  long  lashes  dripping  with  heavy 
tears. 

"  So  pale  and  thin,  and  suffering,  and  I  not  here  to 
care  for  you  !  And  yet  I  am  glad  to  find  you  even 
thus !  You  must  be  well  now,  for  we  are  altogether, 
and  that  will  make  us  strong.  All  together  !"  and  she 
sank  upon  her  knees,  and  laid  her  head  upon  the 
quivering  hands  of  her  brother  and  sent  silent  thanks- 
giving to  the  listener  of  prayer,  and  praise. 

She  rose  calm,  and  beautiful,  with  the  tears  undried, 
but  smiles  shone  through  like  sunshine  between  the 
drops  of  summer  rain,  and  she  said  : 

"  The  little  shoe,  Leon.     Our  father  believes  your 

.baby  bones  are  bleached  with  the  wasted  sea  shells.     I 

must  disclose  your  existence  carefully,  for  he  has  borne 

rough  shocks  since  he  and  you  parted  over  the  ocean. 

We  must  be  tender  of  him." 

She  took  his  keys,  and  in  possessing  herself  of  the 
little  crisp  shoe,  and  the  Cairngorm  cross,  she  entered 
herself  as  mistress  of  his  entire  worldly  treasure. 

"  Be  patient,  Leon,  and  be  calm  till  I  return,"  and 

the  door  swung  to  its  place  with  that  lady-like  habit, 

which  leaves  out  the  clang,  for  which  he  always  steadied 

his  nerves  when  Dot  touched  the  knob.     Everything 

26* 


306  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

made  him  feel  her  presence,  and  her  voice  filled  the 
silence  after  she  had  gone.  It  lingered  as  a  childhood 
melody  lingers  in  the  thoughts,  but  never  shapes 
itself  in  articulate  music.  Not  many  minutes  passed, 
when  the  tall  sad  man,  with  the  remembered  face, 
entered  the  invalid's  room,  with  his  brown  cheeks 
pallid  with  emotion,  and  his  eager  eyes  burning  with 
the  hunger  of  the  heart,  which  longs  to  feast  upon  the 
presence  of  the  beloved. 

"  My  boy,  my  little  child  !  Thank  God,  thank  God  ! 
How  I  have  wept  for  a  touch  of  your  sunny  curls,  and 
a  stroke  from  your  baby  hand  !  How  often  I  have 
heard  your  voice  in  the  rush  of  the  water,  calling  to  rne 
for  help !  It  was  through  the  torn  fibres  of  my  broken 
heart  that  the  sound  must  have  come,  and  not  from 
your  lips,  for  I  am  alive  to  hear  them.  Speak  to  me — 
call  to  me !" 

"  Father  !" 

"  So  sweet !  I  see  your  mother's  smile  upon  your  lips 
and  she  loves  me  through  them, and  forgives  me  for  'he 
hard  things  I  uttered  in  my  anger.  God  pardon  us 
both  !  These  days  are  terrible  but  an  inexpressible 
gladness  has  been  born  of  them,  to  Robert  St.  Remy." 

And  so  the  father  became  as  a  little  child  in  his  glad- 
ness, but  the  son,  Leon  Trissilian,  had  only  great  happi- 
ness but  no  words  with  which  to  manifest  it.  His  New 
England  childhood  had  left  him  untaught  in  the  uttered 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UK  307 

language  of  the  deeper  emotions  of  his  nature.  But 
his  eyes — his  magnificent,  eloquent  eyes,  told  all  the 
story  of  his  newly  found  delight. 

Perhaps  the  surgeon  would  .  have  protested  against 
such  a  flood  of  feeling  in  one  brief  morning,  but  plea- 
sure so  pure  holds  no  depletion,  and  gladness  is  not  the 
attendant  of  death. 

Leaning  upon  his  father's  arm,  he  paced  his  room  for 
the  first  time  since  his  entrance  into  conquered  Jackson. 

He  felt  as  if  but  another  such  day  of  transformation, 
and  he  would  be  able  to  make  the  second  attack,  and  a 
second  capture  of  the  city  which  had  gone  back  for  a 
time,  only  a  little  time,  to  Rebeldom. 

The  Farnams  enjoyed  the  meeting  of  their  friends, 
but  could  not,  even  with  their  loving  self-forgetfulness, 
put  away  the  thought,  that  for  their  broken  circle,  there 
was  no  reunion,  that  between  themselves  and  their 
absent  ones  there  was  a  gulf  as  wide  as  life,  and  deeper 
than  death.  If  they  thought  of  any  measurement  of 
the  separation,  it  was  suggested  by  Dives,  and  Lazarus. 

It  was  not  like  Aurora  Farnarn  to  permit  the  clouds 
that  blackened  her  own  life,  to  obscure  the  sunshine  in 
the  path  of  another,  and  so  she  covered  her  face  with 
smiles,  and  filled  her  voice  with  jubilant  sound,  and  its 
tones  caressed  the  ear  like  a  lullaby,  all  that  summer 
morning. 

Remy  St.  Remy  was  too  much  of  a  woman  not  to 
hear  the  falsetto,  but  she  said  nothing,  only  now  an<? 


308  THE  BOY  IN  LL UE. 

then,  suddenly  breaking  away  from  the  heart  of  the 
sentence  she  was  chirruping,  she  would  kiss  Aurora  for 
a  pause,  and  then  go  on,  with  her  eyelids  drooping. 

How  she  sat  demurely  at  the  feet  of  her  brother,  or 
petted  his  pillow,  in  those  succeeding  days,  contrasted 
strangely  with  her  target  shooting  with  Colonel  Birges 
at  Donnelson,  or  the  sword  practice  of  Pittsburg  land- 
ing. 

"  Leon,  why  don't  you  play  Catechist  now  ?  I  wont 
threaten  to  leave,  nor  fly  into  a  passion  at  your  imper- 
tinence. I'm  so  tame  in  organdie,  I  think  I  could  be 
captured  without  a  flank  movement,  provided  the 
attacking  party  was well Leon," 

"Well?" 

"  You  know  that  package  Dot  was  to  give  you  after 
— after — when  I  didn't  come  back  1" 

"  Jetty  you  mean." 

"  Yes,  Jetty.  You  know  I  was  somebody  else  then. 
The  closing  portion  of  the  manuscript  is  contraband 
information,  and  I  hereby  issue  a  special  war  order  that 
it  be  suppressed." 

Her  cheeks  were  aflame,  and  her  little  fingers  crimp- 
ing the  frills  upon  her  pretty  white  dress. 

"  I  don't  see  the  necessity  of  your  last  command. 
There  has  been  little  else,  save  military  authority,  since 
you  took  possession.  Eating,  drinking,  silence,  sleep, 
and  all  the  '  inalienable  rights  of  man'  have  been  under 
tyrannical  rule,  even  the  command  issued  that  I  should 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  309 

recover,  has  been  complied  with.  Don't  go  too  far,  or 
there  may  be  insubordination." 

Remy  continued  crimping,  and  she  didn't  laugh  as 
he  intended  she  should.  People  don't  like  to  say  funny 
things  without  the  compensation  of  a  smile.  You  don't, 
and  I  don't,  and  nobody  does. 

"  You  know,  Leon,"  she  added  after  a  little,  "  the  fall 
of  Vicksburg  has  opened  the  Mississippi,  and — and " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  mean  to  say  that  General  Banks 
may  be  ordered  to  make  a  change  of  base,  and " 

"  Yes,  and  somebody  in  that  department  who  out- 
ranks you  in  every  particular,  may — that  is,  I  suppose, 
— somebody  wouldn't  have  anybody  for  a  rival  now, 
not  even  the  Boy  in  Blue.  You  know  Colonel  Berry's 
affections  have  been  under  your  own  surveillance  ant! 
not  mine.  I  guage  my  opinions  by  your  own,  and  as  I 
yesterday  burned  the  letter  you  read  upon  the  hospital 
cot,  introducing  your  sister,  I  have  only  to  get  your  sol- 
dier's word,  that  you  will  not  repeat  the  closing 
remarks." 

"  You  are  a  little  thief.  I'll  call  you  Jenny  Wren, 
henceforth." 

"  But  you  will  promise." 

"  Perad venture " 

"  Dot  shall  bang  the  door, — prepare  your  soup — 
punch  your  pillows,  tease  you  for  bandanas,  and  be 
your  sole  companion  till  there  is  no  peradventure,  but 


310  THE  SOY  IN  BL  UE. 

a  positive  promise  is  given  me,  as  strong  as  a  soldier 
and  a  Christian  white  man  can  make. 

"  An  oath  registered  under  such  fear  is  not  binding 
upon  the  conscience,  Jenny  Wren." 

"  Good  morning,  and  good  bye." 

The  mist  of  muslin  drifted  toward  the  door,  and  the 
Tennessee  eyes  looked  wicked,  but  she  had  not  touched 
the  knob  when  she  was  recalled. 

"  Remy." 

"  What,  Leon." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  reveal  the  beautiful  delicacy 
of  my  darling  sister's  thoughts  and  emotions  ?" 

"  No,  Leon,  but  you  are  so  fond  of  Colonel  Berr  , 
and  felt  so  deeply  the — you  know  what  I  mean,  brother, 
that  I  feared  your  tenderness  for  him  might  lead  you 
to  forget  me.  I  don't  believe  I  should  be  so  selfish 
about  anything  else.  Please  promise  me,"  and  the 
pleading  eyes  conquered,  for  the  promise  was  not  long 
withheld. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  are  the  same  friend  that  saved 
my  life  once  by  an  onslaught  that  would  have  made 
you  a  Brigadier,  if  military  justice  was  ever  meeted  out. 
You  know  there  is  a  Scotch  superstition  about  one's 
double,  and  we  own  a  quarter  of  the  best  blood  of  a 
noble  clan.  If  ^ou  are  not  double  lived,  then  there  is 
no  foundation  for  the  faith." 

"  We  are  the  merest  strangers   to  ourselves.     Cir- 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE.  311 

cumstance  makes  us  acquainted  with  our  individualities. 
I  don't  wish  to  retain  the  acquaintance  I  made  with  the 
Boy  in  Blue  during  the  dreary  midnight  rides  in 
Virginia,  and  the  weary  marches  in  the  west.  Bah !  he 
has  the  smell  of  powder,  and  the  dabble  of  blood  ! 
Try  to  forget  him.  I  do." 

"  Not  for  any  memory  of  my  life,  would  I  drop  the 
recollection  of  the  grandeur  of  your  soldier  days.  Not 
but  that  I  love  you  most  in  that  petite  chair,  and  in 
your  womanly  ways,  but  I  reverence  your  self-abnega- 
tion, and  wonderful  self-poise  of  character.  You  were 
a  Joan  of  Arc  in  disguise — a  Grace  Darling  in  spurs — a 

Lady  Godiva  in " 

"  My  curls  were  very  short,  brother,  and  I  couldn't 
ride  in  Coventry,  besides,  I  am  Jenny  Wren.  Kiss  me, 
and  go  to  sleep.  Good  by,  and  try  to  keep  some  of 
your  admiration  for  a  young  lady  in  Rebeldom  who  is 
my  style,  only  very  beautiful.  Her  name  is  Belle 
Stuart.  Now  dream  of  her,  for  two  hours,  or  no 
dinner." 

Colonel  Leon  Trissilian  did  not  long  for  recovery,  as 
some  valiant  veterans  might.  Perhaps  it  was  not 
quite  manly,  and  if  it  was  not,  he  had  been  defrauded 
of  his  rightful  childhood,  and  had  a  claim  upon  his 
family  for  an  accumulated  amount  of  petting.  Many 
days  passed  before  a  second  interview  with  his  father, 
and  his  brother  was  still  in  ignorance  of  his  existence, 


312  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

so  occupied  was  he  with  his  command,  and  so  devoted 
to  his  men. 

Like  a  meeting  between  two  Romans,  was  their  first 
one  when  it  came, — a  grasp  of  the  hand — a  long  look 
to  learn  each  others'  faces — unbroken  silence,  a  loosen- 
ing of  the  palms,  a  heavy  choking  in  the  throat,  a 
heaving  of  broad  bosoms,  which  the  will  conquered 
after  a  tug,  and  that  was  all. 

"  When  does  your  command  move  ?"  was  the  ques- 
tion ffom  the  New  England  bred  officer,  who  subdued 
his  quivering  lips  first,  by  virtue  of  his  Northern  right 
to  self-control. 

"  I  am  not  under  orders  yet.  The  fall  of  Port  Hud- 
son will  be  likely  to  cause  a  cessation  of  any  gre;it 
activity  just  now.  If  we  move,  we  shall  probably 
occupy  Vicksburg.  Our  men  are  fresh  from  the  fields, 
and  have  no  powder  smoke  upon  them  yet,  but  their 
bravery  is  equal  to  that  of  the  Light  Brigade  which  fell 
before  the  Muscovites,  in  the  Crimea.  Every  man  is 
willing  to  leave  his  bones  in  the  hungry  graves  of  the 
Lagunes,  or  bleach  them  upon  the  bare  East  Moun- 
tains, if  triumph  but  crowns  the  conflict." 

And  then  Leon  flushed,  and  grew  eloquent  over  the 
daring  of  his  own  men,  and  then  the  two  soldiers 
measured  the  prowess  of  their  separate  commands, 
with  the  pride  of  the  old-time  Chieftains  of  the  North- 
men, but  they  watched  each  other's  faces,  and  kept  upon 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UK  313 

the  margin  of  the  new  relation — not  touching  the  tender 
pride  of  equals  in  rank. 

Not  a  word  of  the  past  in  either  life  was  spoken  then, 
for  neither  heart  was  ready  yet,  but  both  poured  forth 
their  thoughts,  and  their  hoarded  admiration  for  each 
other,  into  Remy's  ear,  and  she  dealt  it  out  in  delicate 
morsels  in  their  days  of  separation. 

Mankind  is  so  strange  in  its  manner  to  mankind  ! 
Even  Robert  St.  Remy  remembered  his  first  interview 
with  his  recovered  son,  with  a  flush  and  a  tingle  upon 
his  cheek,  as  if  he  had  been  too  womanly.  The  gush 
ing  is  for  woman  only,  and  man  believes  it  ungenerous 
or  undignified  to  partake  of  the  luxury.  They  receive 
it,  however,  from  the  feminine  element,  with  an  appar- 
ent pleasure,  which  if  not  real,  is  exceedingly  well 
played. 

The  Allaires'  names  were  never  spoken,  and  if  Leon 
remembered  them,  the  annoyance  was  soothed,  or  cured 
by  his  sister.  He  had  seen  Aurora  Farnam  but  a  few 
times,  because  she  had  adopted  the  Sisters  of  Mercy 
garb,  and  entered  upon  her  new  and  busy  life,  and  Remy 
was  only  waiting  for  the  recovery  of  her  brother  to 
follow  her.  Leon  did  not  find  the  glory  he  expected, 
in  Aurora's  dull-face,  and  introverted  eyes.  Then  her 
golden  gleams  of  hair  were  hidden  under  the  muslin 
cap  of  the  nurse,  and  her  tropical  love  of  adornment, 
which  was  so  charming  once,  was  all  gone  now,  and  it 
took  not  a  little  from  her  unusual  characteristics.  He 
27 


314  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

saw  nothing  but  a  colorless  girl,  tall,  willowy,  and 
graceful,  but  untouched  by  beauty.  She  might  have 
been  an  automotan,  and  interested  him  more.  Why 
should  she  glow,  and  be  radiant,  where  life  had  no  sun- 
shine, and  only  the  pitiful  and  sympathetic  of  her 
nature  survived  in  the  darkness?  That  she  was  an 
angel  in  a  palmer's  gown  and  guise,  the  least  observant 
eye  could  see,  but  there  were  no  earthy  elements  of 
beauty  visible  to  Trissilian. 

The  last  of  the  summer  had  gone,  and  Autumn  had 
spent  a  month  weaving  arabesques  of  russet  and  gold, 
and  amber,  dabbled  with  Tyrian,  when  the  victor  of 
the  West  returned  from  his  triumphal  passage  to,  and 
from  New  Orleans. 

He  had  been  detained  by  an  accident,  and  leaned 
heavily  upon  his  staff,  but  he  had  not,  for  an  hour,  laid 
aside  his  official  duties  at  the  bidding  of  a  wrenched 
limb,  for  he  brought  a  campaign  fully  planned  in  his 
wonderful  brain,  and  ready  for  execution.  Remy  St. 
Remy's  eyes  indicated  a  mysterious  expectancy,  the 
day  of  the  General's  arrival,  but  she  said  nothing.  She 
knew  that  an  appealing  letter  went  to  Colonel  Berry 
weeks  before,  and  she  thought,  now  that  the  way  was 
open,  perhaps — perhaps — she  did  not  fix  the  perhaps  in 
sound,  but  Dot's  best  soprano  did,  when  she  opened 
the  vestibule  door  to  a  tall  bronzed  officer,  with  silver 
grey  hair,  and  an  eager  handsome  face,  asking  for 
Colonel  Trissilian.  He  had  a  perfect  right  to  suppose 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  315 

he  had  unwittingly  entered  a  private  lunatic  asylum 
from  the  manner  of  the  girl,  and  though  he  did  not 
shrink  before  Port  Hudson,  an  involuntary  indication 
of  retreat  made  Dot's  ideas  of  capture  shape  themselves 
into  a  close  grasp  upon  his  two  arms  while  she  contin- 
ued her  shrill  upper  notes  to  the  astonishment  of 
Ilokey,  who  came  quietly,  and,  with  a  strategy  wholly 
his  own,  released  the  officer,  and  with  numberless 
twitches  at  his  braided  temple  locks,  begged  to  know 
who  the  "  gentleum"  would  see. 

"Why  its  missus,  and  me,  to  be  sure,  Hokey." 

Cleopatra's  ghostess  manifested  itself  in  this  reply, 
but  the  officer  did  not  corroborate  her  assertion. 

"  I  would  like  to  see  Colonel  Trissilian,  whose  address 
I  procured  at  Headquarters,  and  I  may  have  mistaken 
his  residence." 

"  There  isn't  any  Colonel  Trissilian  any  more,"  pull- 
ing vigorously  still  at  the  braid  of  knotty  hair, 
"  because,  sah, — he's " 

"  Dead  !  When  did  it  happen  1"  asked  the  husky 
voice. 

"  No,  sah,  not  any,  but  ye  see,  he  is'nt  at  home,  but 
the  missus  is,  and  she'll  tell  you,  sah." 

Now  he  was  certain  of  the  Asylum,  and  started  upon 
the  retreat  movement  again,  when  Hokey  said  : 

"  Missus  St.  Remy  will  see  you,  sah,  and  tell  you 
all  about  it." 

The  name  was  like   a  minie   ball,  and    he  showed 


316  THE  EOT  IN  BLUE. 

signs  of  a  wound  in  some  vital  part,  but  rallied  ami 
said: 

"  Where  ?" 

Hokey  bowed  him  into  the  drawing-room  where 
Remy  sat,  not  capriciously  enjoying  the  ludicrous  con- 
versation, but  immoveable,  with  her  right  hand  holding 
the  busy  little  indicator  under  her  bodice  from  occupy- 
ing her  white  throat,  and  preventing  articulation. 

A  picture  of  a  girl  in  misty  white,  with  a  girdle  of 
emerald  green  velvet,  and  a  pale  rose  fastened  to  its 
lacings,  stood  in  the  full  light  of  the  open  windows. 

She  had  dressed  especially  for  somebody.  For  Leon, 
perhaps,  because  he  was  soon  to  leave  her  for  the  field. 
For  Abernethy  it  may  be,  who  seldom  brought  his 
eagle  eyes,  and  corrugated  brows,  into  the  peaceful 
home  where  his  sister  was  once  more  safe.  He  was 
too  busy  preparing  for  the  deadly  struggle.  She  would 
scarcely  have  permitted  herself  to  remember  that 
Colonel  Berry  loved  to  see  her  in  green  and  white. 
She  only  knew  it  happened  to  be  those  colors.  If  she 
had  been  all  soldier,  once,  she  was  certainly  all  woman 
now.  Happiness  is  such  a  magical  transformer  ! 

Then  she  was  friendless,  homeless  and  pursued. 
Now  she  is  a  bird,  a  blossom,  and  a  joy.  Once  she 
was  exacting  to  herself,  and  permitted  her  rich  eesthetic 
nature  no  liberty,  but  now  she  luxuriated  in  womanly 
ways,  and  stood  an  embodiment  of  Colonel  Berry's 
dreams  of  human  perfection.  Not  so  steady  was  his 


I 

I  '   • 

THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  317 

approach  to  her,  as  many  an  advance  he  had  made 
upon  a  rifle  pit,  when  he  had  dismounted,  and  led  his 
brave  fellows  to  the  charge. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  ask  of  life,  because  you  are 
here.  My  hair  has  blanched,  and  my  heart  shrunken 
with  the  horror  of  your  loss.  Thank  God  for  this  last 
best  Providence." 

He  held  her  left  hand.  The  other  was  still  keeping 
guard  over  the  green  velvet  bodice.  At  length  she 
answered  an  amen,  and  the  spell  of  silence  was  broken. 

The  self-reproach  which  he  felt  at  not  recognising  the 
Boy  in  Blue,  under  the  mysterious  attraction  of  his 
presence — the  vacuum  in  the  tent  when  he  was  gone, 
had  often  been  matters  of  marvel,  and  speculation  in 
the  after  time,  .and  why  the  truth  had  not  overleaped 
all  these  vague  thoughts,  was  not  explained,  nor  ever 
would  be.  The  border  lands  of  soul  perception,  have 
been  often  wandered  over,  but  they  are  strange  shores 
to  us  yet. 

The  day  went  by — and  the  sun  fell  into  its  bed 
behind  the  purple  hangings  of  the  west,  and  the  story 
was  but  half  told.  Not  but  Remy  would  have  gladly 
omitted  everything  except  the  meager  outlines,  but  the 
soldier  was  unsatisfied  if  a  day  -was  left  unaccounted 
for.  How  he  rejoiced  in  Colonel  Trissilian's  newly 
found  happiness,  and  longed  for  the  "  boy's"  return ! 
Leon  would  always  be  a  boy  to  him. 

Then  the  pale  scholarly  man  who  was  his  boyhood's 
27* 


31 8  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

friend,  and  correspondent,  was  a  soldier  too,  and  of  his 
own  rank  !  Three  of  them — and  all  Colonels  !  Remy 
laughed,  and  said  she  did  not  like  the  multitude,  and 
preferred  Captain  Robert,  her  father.  Then  there  was 
another,  a  boy  with  chevrons  upon  his  arm,  called  Sar- 
geant  Stuart,  she  thought  she  liked  him  better  than  a 
colonel,  for  colonels  were  so  common  among  her  friends. 
O  she  was  merrier,  and  more  charming  than  he 
had  ever  seen  her  before.  How  the  week  rushed  by 
them  all  in  this  glad  reunion,  only  those  who  have 
drifted  apart  upon  the  waves  of  fate — each  tide  bearing, 
death  upon  its  crested  surf,  and  then  been  safely 
beached,  can  feel !  No  one  can  articulate  it.  How 
many  times  Dot  was  turned  about,  to  find  a  remem- 
brance upon  which  to  fix  the  memory  of  Jetty ;  were 
left  uncounted.  Certainly,  he  had  no  recollection  of 
such  a  quality  of  voice  as  greeted  him  the  morning  of 
his  coming,  and  he  did  not  express  a  desire  for  its  repe- 
tition. 

Hokey,  who  had  become  legal  reprover,  and  protector 
of  the  screamer,  gave  her  very  grave  advice,  which  she 
bore  with  marvellous  patience,  but  expressed  no  resolu- 
tions of  vocal  control. 

"  'Pears  like  screechin  ain't  good  for  white  folks' 
ears,  but  it  felt  monstrous  good  in  mine,  that  are 
mornin,  when  we  cum  here,"  Hokey  said,  with  a  pat  on 
Jetty's  head,  that  sweetened  the  reproof. 

October  was  inaugurated,  and  Colonel  Leon  Trissilian 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  319 

who  kept  his  old  name,  for  convenience  sake,  was  to 
rejoin  his  regiment  the  next  week.  General  Sherman 
was  in  Memphis  at  this  time,  with  his  Fifteenth  Army 
Corps,  and  though  bleached,  and  delicate,  Leon 
Trissilian  was  not  the  man  to  be  left  behind,  when  they 
faced  Chattanooga.  He  longed  to  look  upon  the  place 
of  his  birth,  but  longed  more  intensely  still,  to  see  it 
in  the  hands  of  Union  men.  This  entire  corps,  except 
General  Tuttle's  Division,  was  to  move  upon  the  10th 
of  October,  to  relieve  our  beleaguered  army,  closed  in  by 
Rebels,  and  mountains  after  the  defeat  at  Chickamauga, 
where  they  were  wretchedly  fed  upon  half  rations, 
with  but  a  portion  of  this  in  prospect,  if  relief  did  not 
reach  them  soon.  No  medical  remonstrance,  no 
sisterly  protest,  availed  now,  and  Leon  reported  him- 
self, and  waited  orders.  In  the  consolidation  of  por- 
tions of  regiments,  Colonel  Abernethy  St.  Remy  was 
permitted  to  deal  his  first  blow  for  his  own  fireside, 
and  see  his  first  battle  at  Chattanooga.  A  father,  and 
two  sons  striking  boldly  together  for  Freedom,  whence 
two  had  crawled  under  the  darkness  of  mortal  terror, 
was  pride  enough  for  one  long  lifetime. 

The  Allaire  residence,  which  was  soon  to  be  occupied 
by  other  servants  of  Loyalty,  wore  the  aspect  of  transi- 
tion. Bustle  and  hurry,  though  there  was  little  to  re- 
move, filled  the  last  day.  Leon  had  never  said  as 
much,  but  Remy  knew  a  leave-taking  would  have  its 
pleasures,  as  well  as  its  pain  to  him.  Here,  his  first 


320  THE  BOY  IN  BL UE. 

dream  grew  into  delight,  and  faded  into  stony  indiffer- 
ence. Here,  his  first  real  nature  had  expanded,  and  his 
heart,  and  soul  was  larger,  and  grander,  than  before. 
It  was  only  a  coincidence  that  he  should  have  been 
brought  to  this  shelter  in  his  helplessness,  and  what- 
ever of  bitterness  might  have  swept  over  his  life  there 
but  for  his  more  absorbing  sorrow  for  his  wandering 
sister,  we  cannot  tell.  The  shadows  that  did  darken 
him,  momentarily,  he  put  by,  and  said  nothing. 

Colonel  Berry  could  not  find  the  ebon  that  he  lost 
from  his  hair,  but  0113  week  had  brought  back  youth 
from  out  the  past,  and  lightened  his  eyes,  and  smoothed 
his  face.  Robert  St.  Remy  had  called  him  son,  with  a 
quiver  in  his  voice,  and  a  tender  look  in  his  deep  eyes, 
but  Remy  said  : 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet.  My  place  is  with  thb  fallen.  I 
have  had  so  much  gladness,  that  I  can  keep  enough  in 
my  heart  for  the  days  that  might  have  been  desolate.  I 
join  Aurora  Farnam  at  Vicksburg  immediately.  My 
income  will  help  smooth  the  rough  paths,  by  which  so 
many  of  our  soldiers  go  down  to  death.  You  know 
Mr.  Farnam  is  with  her.  He  had  heavy  investments 
at  Louisville,  and  now  that  he  has  taken  the  oath  of 
Loyalty  through  such  tribulation,  he  is  in  a  position  to 
do  immense  service  to  the  suffering,  and  he  is  onh  too 
glad  to  assist  his  country  in  this  way.  We  shall  work 
together.  Don't  look  so  dreary.  You  will  love  me 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  321 

better,  sometime,  for  refusing  safety,  and  idleness, 
while  you  are  in  the  field.  I  believe  you  do  now." 

He  only  kissed  her  forehead,  and  she  slid  away  from 
his  grasp,  and  returned  an  hour  later  in  a  pretty  muslin 
cap  and  grey  dress,  round  cape,  and  white  apron,  with 
a  demure  look,  that  would  have  seemed  saintly,  but 
for  the  twinkle  under  the  long,  drooping  black  lashes. 

"Do  you  think  the  Boy  in  Blue  was  ever  in  love 
with  Remy  St.  Remy  ?  A  little  advice,  and  a  sugges- 
tion about  the  youth  of  your  rival,  might  be  appropri- 
ate, Colonel  Berry." 

"  You  are  a  wicked  girl,  to  remind  me  of  those  days 
of  stupidity.  Don't  consider  me  lacking  in  gallantry, 
because  I  believe  I  could  love  a  woman  with  a  touch 
of  human  nature,  better  than  I  could  a  saint." 

And  so  with  a  heart  as  heavy  as  a  stone,  she  twit- 
tered the  hours  away,  and  separated  from  each,  with  a 
cheery  word  of  parting,  and  a  hope  of  reunion,  which 
came  to  her  friends  like  a  prophesy.  She  would  not 
permit  Colonel  Remy  to  accompany  her  to  Vicksburg, 
knowing  how  precious  to  his  mother,  would  be  each 
hour  of  his  brief  furlough,  and  had  she  not  enjoyed 
ten  days  of  perfect  happiness? 

No  remonstrance  availed.  She  was  as  firm  as  the 
Boy  in  Blue,  and  turned  away  with  a  stubborn  com- 
pression upon  her  beautiful  lips,  but  the  colonel  knew 
that  tenderness  and  love  nestled  in  her  heart,  like  fully 


322  THE  BOY  IN  BL HE. 

fledged  swallows  waiting  for  the  twilight  of  sadness  in 
somebody's  life,  when  they  would  plume  their  wings 
and  brood  down  with  peace,  pity,  and  immeasurable  joy. 
She  was  brooding  happiness,  for  future  years,  and  it  will' 
come  when  the  cry  of  battle  has  ceased,  and  the  flag 
of  our  Union  flutters  from  every  hamlet  in  the  land. 

Hokey  and  Dot,  or  Mrs.  Dot  Hokey  as  she  calls  her- 
self, faced  Vicksburg  with  Remy,  and  they  entered  upon 
their  new  duties  at  the  same  time  that  General  Sher- 
man carried  hope,  and  new  life,  to  the  troops  hemmed 
in  the  mountains. 

Remy's  pilgrimage  to  the  Hospitals,  is  it  not  re- 
corded in  many  a  man's  heart,  and  carried  by  many 
another  whose  earthly  tent  is  struck,  to  the  higher 
records,  where  there  is  no  suffering  ?  Her  career  is  not 
yet  ended — indeed  it  is  but  just  began.  God  bless  her  ! 
How  she  will  mask  herself  lest  this  record  be  placed 
by  her  labors,  and  she  be  recognised  !  Many  are  the 
angels  born  of  this  struggle,  and  parallels  are  not 
hidden  from  the  eye  that  watches  for  the  noble  deeds  of 
to-day.  . 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  U£.  333 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


AT     CHATTANOOGA     AGAIN. 


"  One  solid  thrust  to  plant  the  staff — 
1  There  !  let  the  Eagle  soar !' 

He  cried,  and  reeling,  clasped  his  breast. 
He  fell  —  and  breathed  no  morel" 


How  their  bayonets  glistened  in  the  autumn  sun,  as 
the  Union  troops  approached  the  circumvallating  ram- 
parts which  Nature  had  reared  in  the  stillness  of  the 
early  days,  and  upon  whose  bastions  were  now  planted 
the  fiercest  artillery  of  the  South  ? 

Every  angle,  and  re-entering  angle,  was  mounted  by 
the  swarming  rebels,  and  from  the  bold  point  of  Or- 
chard Knob  bellowed  forth  a  challenge  which  was 
accepted  by  the  heart  of  every  man  who  fronted  that 
bold  bluff,  and  with  steady  steps,  and  dignified  eager- 
ness, they  rolled  on  like  a  great  glistening  wave  toward 
the  base  of  the  mountain.  The  heavy  fall  of  shot  and 
shell,  now  and  then  parted  their  ranks  as  a  meteor  would 
divide  a  billow,  and  then  they  closed  again. 

Little  heedea  they,  then,  if  from  the  ranks  below,  to 
the  ranks  above,  they  were  summoned  on  that  grand 
march,  if  they  were  sure  that  from  the  crown  of  the  hills, 


324  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE. 

our  stars  glittered,  while  their  dead  eyes  were  turned 
to  it,  from  the  valley. 

They  knew  that  their  general  watched  them  from  the 
ramparts  of  Fort  Wood,  and  they  were  glad  to  prove 
their  courage  to  their  beloved  leader,  and  their  patriot- 
ism to  their  country.  How  the  heroes  dropped  that 
day,  like  leaves  from  ripened  trees,  and  how  unflinch- 
ingly their  brothers  swept  past  them,  forgetting  to  be 
human  in  that  terrible  march,  cannot  be  written,  but 
the  night  dews  mingled  with  the  drops  of  baptismal 
blood  that  fell  from  brave  hearts  upon  the  brow  of 
Orchard  Knob  that  twilight,  and  abov^  it  all — the  dead 
and  dying,  the  vanquished  and  the  victors,  the  seeth- 
ing passions,  and  the  passionless  dead,  floated  the 
heavenly  blue  and  glorious  red  of  our  unconquerable 
emblem — and  the  stars  were  all  there ! 

Only  one  of  the  many  hills  was  ours  ! 

The  dawn  of  the  24th  of  November  was  grey  and 
threatening,  and  the  tone  of  the  sky  lay  over  the  fea- 
tures of  Sherman's  men.  Not  that  they  doubted  the 
issue  of  the  conflict ;  for  the  color,  and  fixedness  of 
their  features  was  like  iron,  cold,  inflexible,  and  endur- 
ing. The  dead  of  the  day  before,  with  which  Orchard 
Knob  was  purchased,  they  did  not  deem  too  high  a  price 
nor  their  own  lives  too  great  a  sacrifice,  but  there  were 
remembered  wrongs  yet  unavenged.  , 

W.hen  at  noon,  the  rain  came  dripping  over  their 


THE  BOY  IN  BL  HE.  325 

blue,  they  carefully  shielded  their  rifles,  but  thought 
not  of  themselves.  There  was  a  crescent  of  three  hills 
to  mmmt,  and  steadily,  with  eyes  turned  upward,  the 
soldiery  pressed  on,  with  little  to  hinder  their  advance, 
till  the  waning  day  brought  them  under  the  brow  of 
Fort  Buckner.  Tunnel  Hill  held  this  still  incomplete 
structure,  but  busy  hands  were  strengthening  its  rims 
of  defence,  and  though  the  Federals  had  climbed  all 
that  declining  day,  the  enemy  were  higher  still,  and 
could  toss  death  down  into  their  bosoms. 

General  Hooker  gazed  at  the  bold  grey  face  of  Look- 
out Mountain,  hut  only  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders, 
and,  with  a  wicked  smile,  ordered  his  column  into  the 
forest  south  of  Wanchatchia,  and  wound  about  it  like  a 
serpent  lifting  its  head  crested  with  spears,  upon  the 
rear  of  the  unsuspecting  enemy. 

From  Moccasin  Point  to  Mission  Ridge — the  inter- 
change of  hostile  sentiments  was  kept  up,  until  the 
whole  circle  of  hills  was  hid  in  a  dense  mantle  of 
smoke. 

Like  bees  swarming  behind  the  jutting  rocks,  the 
rebels  hid  themselves  while  they  fought  about  Mocca- 
sin Point,  while  the  serpent  formed  by  General  Hook 
er's  incantations  enfolded  them,  group  by  group,  in  its 
huge  coils,  and  bore  them  into  the  careful  keeping  of  the 
Federal  guards. 

All  day  the  battle  raged,  and  smoke,  and  daylight, 
28 


326  THE  BOY  IN  JfL UE. 

smothered  the  flash  of  artillery,  but  the  twilight  tore 
away  the  tapestried  curtain  and  revealed  the  red  eyes 
of  the  iron  contestants. 

Leaping  tongues  of  fire  from  the  musketry,  revealed 
the  outlines  of  the  massed  forces — intermingled  with 
volcanic  flames  from  the  giant  mouths  of  the  huge 
field  pieces. 

Perfect  darkness  covered  the  retreat  of  the  enemy 
toward  Mission  Mills. 

From  the  valley  below,  watchers  saw  the  camp  fires 
spring  up,  farther,  and  farther  over  the  enemies'  lines, 
until  before  the  dawn  hid  their  blaze,  they  covered  the 
whole  forehead  of  the  mountain,  and  the  Rebels  were 
gone. 

The  night  knew  no  rest  for  the  intrepid  Hooker,  and 
the  day  no  end  of  endeavor.  He  followed  the  enemy 
down  Mission  Ridge  without  the  aid  of  the  waiting 
divisions,  and  took  his  place  close  to  Fort  Breckenridge. 

Mission  Ridge  bristled  with  fierce  bayonets,  but 
brave  Union  boys  had  planted  their  colors  about  the 
crest  with  a  determination  to  let  them  stand,  or 
advance. 

How  the  time  had  sped  with  the  St.  Remys  has  not 
been  told.  While  Hooker  was  winning  laurels,  Sher- 
man was  not  idle.  The  morning  was  just  drifting  into 
the  deeper  gloom  of  a  cloudy  noon  day  below,  when 
he  made  a  feint  upon  his  right,  and  drew  the  enemies, 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  327 

fire  that  he  might  guage  their  strength,  and  when  fully 
conscious,  he  was  silent,  and  waited. 

Vibrating  between  triumph  and  death,  not  surrender 
— the  hours  of  mid-day  waned  slowly.  Bravely  the 
corps  in  which  the  St.  Remys  led,  and  fought  with 
their  fellows,  crept  up  the  mountain,  and  neither  the 
musketry  nor  the  huge  bowlders  which  the  Rebels  rolled 
through  our  rank  and  file  from  the  heights  above, 
intimidated  these  men,  who  were  fighting  for  their  own 
hearthstones. 

Regiment  after  regiment,  joined  these  climbers  for 
Victory,  and  the  whole  mountain  grew  into  a  quivering 
mass  of  flame. 

Once  only  our  heroes  flinched,  broke,  and  faced  the 
valley,  flying  from  the  enfilading  fire,  downward,  down- 
ward to  safety  and  disgrace  ! 

While  wrild  and  maddened  by  defeat,  an  officer 
sprang  into  their  midst,  and  seizing  the  standard  of  a 
regiment,  planted  it,  and  waving  his  sabre  upward, 
every  man  turned  as  if  the  heroism  of  their  leader's 
soul  magnetized  their  own,  and  in  a  fixed  column  again, 
they  mounted  the  steep  sides  of  Mission  Ridge. 
Canister,  from  double  shotted  guns,  did  not  break  their 
ranks  until  they  stood  within  the  Rebel  battery,  but 
oh,  for  those  who  loved  this  beautiful  world,  and  oh,  for 
the  praying,  and  waiting  ones  at  home,  the  triumph 
was  not  here  !  Enfuriated  men  outnumbered  our  brave 


328  THE  BO  7  IN  BL  UE. 

patriots,  and  but  a  small  portion  of  them  faced,  and 
fired,  as  they  pushed  down  toward  the  valley  again. 

Many  a  strong  arm  bore  down  a  wounded  comrade 
tenderly,  to  let  him  die  with  his  brothers,  but  Robert 
St.  Remy  was  not  lifted  from  where  he  fell ! 

One  strong  sob  burst  above  him,  and  tears,  just  two 
great,  bitter,  burning  ones,  sparkled  upoi}  his  forehead 
before  a  garment  covered  his  dead  eyes,  and  the  part- 
ing between  father  and  son  was  passed,  for  this  world. 

The  days  of  their  hove  had  been  brief  but  beautiful, 
and  even  Abernethy  was  willing  that  the  last  moment, 
should  have  been  his  brother's,  because  the  record  of  a 
lovely  life  was  laid  away  in  his  own  memory,  unshared 
by  Leon  St.  Remy. 

How  those  rocky  points  had  glimmered,  and  glowed 
from  dun  to  crimson,  and  from  gold  to  russet  up  above 
*  his  happy,  boyish  head,  but  now  those  gothic  pinnacles 
would  forever  drip  with  purple  drops ! 

The  great  crescent  of  hills  would  forever  bear  a 
ghostly  semblance  to  the  face  of  the  good  man,  who 
had  fallen  to  sleep  upon  its  tips  ! 

Mission  Ridge  seemed  like  a  dim  cathedral  where 
strange  souls,  just  wandering  upon  the  shores  of  the 
unknown,  were  gathering  for  ghostly  worship,  and  the 
deep  rift  below,  a  valley  where  Death  was  calling  the 
roll  of  honor ! 

Those  who  floated  mid-heaven  that  night,  and  those 
who  waited,  and  struggled  still,  are  alike  immortal ! 


THE  SO  Y  IN  BL  UE.  309 

Neither  brother,  got  leave  of  their  hearts  to  weep 
then,  and  there,  save  the  tears  that  did  not  hinder,  for 
the  battle  palpitated  still,  like  a  monster  to  whom  entire 
death  is  impossible.  Limbs  had  been'  severed,  but  he 
was  struggling  still. 

The  lines  wavered — Victory  went  out  a  little  upon 
the  tide  of  disaster,  and  then  came  back  again,  and 
Liberty  spread  her  wings  at  last  over  that  circle  of  hills 
dripping  and  slippery,  and  ghostly  with  white,  silent 
faces,  and  unclosed  sightless  eyes,  and  fanned  the 
fevered  air  into  the  purity  of  peace. 

The  rain  cooled  waiting  lips,  and  then  left  the  stars 
to  beckon  the  sufferers  home. 

Hooker  had  fought  all  day  above  the  clouds,  with  not 
a  mist  between  himself  and  the  clear  blue  November 
sky  above — and  only  when  the  night  was  fully  upon 
them,  did  the  divisions  below,  know  how  gloriously 
brave  'had  been  their  comrades  in  the  air.  Chattanooga 
was  ours.  How  the  three  columns  followed  the  enemy, 
and  hung  like  devouring  tigers  upon  the  fringe  of  their 
rent  mantle,  is  recorded  in  the  history  of  this  closely 
contested  battle  for  human  freedom. 
*  *  ******** 

Berny  St.  Remy  lay  in  his  own  home  a  few  weeks 
later,  with  one  limb  severed,  but  the  old  grand  look 
was  in  his  face — and  triumph  lit  his  brown  eyes,  as  if 
he  had  bought  liberty  for  his  own,  very  cheaply. 

The  dear  face  upon  Mission  Ridge,  had  been  hidden 
28* 


330  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

by  strange  hands  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  but  he  knew 
it  had  been  done  reverently  by  brother  soldiers'  hands, 
and  he  endured  no  sorrow — only  a  tender  regret,  it  may 
be — because  the  clay  did  not  rest  upon  their  own 
pretty  lawn.  Why  should  he  1  That  which  had  made 
the  hand-grasp  true,  and  the  face  loveable,  was  above  the 
peaks  of  Mission  Mountain,  perhaps, — or,  it  may  be, 
was  silently  inspiring  his  children  to  brave  the  present 
and  hope  for  the  future.  Who  can  tell  1 

The  uplifted  spirit  may  be  truer  in  its  care  of  us,  be- 
cause stronger  in  its  free  life  than  our  fettered  selves, 
because  from  its  backward  look,  it  learns  how  much 
sorrow  the  flesh  brings  to  us.  The  dead  have  no  voices, 
and  yet  we  sometimes  call  to  them  in  our  distress,  and 
are  comforted,  by  silence.  We  reach  out  feeble  hands 
and  are  strengthened,  and  yet  know  not  what  touches 
our  palms.  The  angels  have  encampments  by  our  own, 
and  surely  some  holy  presence  breathed  into  the  souls 
transfigured  upon  those  bloody  hills,  for  the  faces  of  the 
dead  were  like  those  of  little  children,  and  smiles  were 
turned  to  the  skies,  as  if  the  last  look  was  into  the  face 
of  a  friend. 


THE  SOY  IN  BLUE.  331 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ANGELS      OF      MERCY. 

"  How  much  is  wasted,  wrecked,  forgot, 
On  this  side  heaven." 

THESE  pages  are  only  a  catagraph  after  all.  Who 
could  complete  a  picture  that  would  tell  you  ho\r 
human  sympathy  made  the  dark  valleys  less  lonely,  and 
set  a  love-lit  lamp  upon  the  bluffs  of  time,  that  pierced 
the  shadows  of  the  future  ?  How  the  prayers  of  saintly 
women  went  as  a  convoy  to  bewildered  souls,  and  les- 
sened their  solitariness  by  spiritual  companionship,  shall 
we  not  know,  and  understand,  when  we  too,  have  waded 
breast  deep,  in  the  river  that  has  no  hither  voyagers  1 

Aurora  Farnam  an  d  Remy  St.  Remy  are  but  two  of 
the  many  who  in  these  sad  years,  remember  how 
womanhood  is  travestied  by  dilettanteism  and  falsehood 
and  make  complete  their  own  right  to  this  title,  "  God's 
last,  best  gift."  In  the  solitudes  of  sorrow,  upon  the 
wastes  of  pain  in  a  dearth  of  friendliness,  these  two 
women  seem  disrobed  of  the  flesh,  and  their  hopeful 


332  THE  £0  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

words,  and  soothing  touches,  and  above  all,  the  tearful 
pity  that  never  voices  itself  in  articulate  language,  went 
where  the  spirit  drifts,  when  the  wasted  body  no  longer 
holds  its  treasure. 

O  the  many,  many  angels  who  are  yet  captives  upon 
the  earth,  and  joy  in  their  imprisonment,  because  their 
hands,  and  voices,  are  filled  with  merciful  healing ! 

The  circumference  of  such  holy  lives,  who  can 
bound  ?  When  will  the  touches  of  their  spirit  loveli- 
ness fade  from  the  memories  whereon  they  have 
pictured  themselves  in  the  dimness  of  dreary  cham- 
bers 1  Not  in  this  life,  and  not  in  the  Beulah  of  the 
next — that  soldier's  Rest  after  the  last  Battle  ! 

Miss  Farnam  seemed  to  take  the  unhappiness  of 
others  for  the  most  part,  as  something  that  care  and 
skill  could  cure,  or  death  release.  Though  she  did  not 
speak  of  her  own,  there  was  that  in  her  face  at  times, 
that  told  of  internal  wounds,  bleeding,  and  aching 
always,  but  forcing  no  moan.  Like  a  loving  angel  she 
walked  her  ward  helping  some  to  unloose  their  hold 
upon  earth,  and  piloting  them  into  the  peace- 
ful haven  of  perfect  faith,  and  giving  some,  courage  to 
face  life,  shorn  of  strength,,  and  helpless,  because  of 
lopped  limb?,  and  sinews  in  bondage,  and  leading 
some  back  to  youth  and  hope.  We  cannot  give  to 
others,  and  be  utterly  impoverished  ourselves,  and 
perhaps  there  was  courage  bestowed  upon  her  in  turn,  for 
all  that  she  gave.  Remy  was  no  less  an  embodiment 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE.  333 

of  beautiful,  helpful  womanhood,  and  her  returned 
happiness  spread  its  cheeriness  through  the  long  line  of 
stricken  soldiery,  who  peopled  her  ward. 

The  surgeons  blessed  her  for  the  sunshine  she  gave 
their  patients,  and  the  twilights  she  filled  with  music 
that  throbbed  "  sweet  home"  into  their  leaden  nightfalls, 
and  bridged  the  desolate  distance  between  their  narrow 
pallets,  and  the  pillowed  beds  of  their  boyhood,  so 
perfectly,  that  they  were  rested  in  the  sweet  fancy  her 
low  melodies  wrought. 

Drugs  were  not  so  bitter,  nor  bandages  so  painful 
that  her  hand  touched.  It  was  easier  to  bear  the  probe 
among  the  splintered  bones,  with  her  eyes  pitying,  and 
uttering  hope. 

Aurora,  and  herself,  spent  their  resting  hours  togeth- 
er under  the  care  of  faithful  Dot,  who  had  consented 
through  lamentations  to  permit  Hokey  to  join  the 
Union  army,  and  work  out  the  freedom  for  his  people 
that  had  come  to  himself  through  the  Christianity  of  his 
dear  old  master. 

Many  were  the  tearful  experiences  related  in  those 
weeks,  and  one  evening  while  in  their  little  barren 
room,  which  self-denial  made  beautiful,  the  surgeon  in 
charge  of  their  hospital,  paid  them  his  first  visit,  and 
made  an  abrupt  demand  which  hospital  nurses  so  well 
understand.  Courtesy  lies  under  the  brief  sentences, 
but  there  is  no  time  for  its  expression,  nor  is  there  any 
need : 


334  THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  UE. 

"  Miss  Farnam,  there  is  a  new  inmate  in  the  Hospital, 
who  was  captured  with  the  city,  and  he  is  in  a  critical 
condition — with  but  one  hope,  and  that  not  a  brilliant 
one.  He  is  not  an  original  Unionist,  but  took  the  oath 
of  allegiance  eagerly.  I  do  not  mention  this  last,  sup- 
posing it  would  matter  with  a  Christian  woman,  but  the 
fact  slipped  my  tongue.  He  is  a  magnificent  man,  just 
upon  the  verge  of  perpetual  blindness.  The  case  is  so 
delicate  I  dare  not  trust  it  to  an  uneducated  nurse,  no 
matter  how  kind,  and  attentive  she  may  be.  He  is 
worth  saving,  because  he  is  so  repentant.  I  will  pro- 
cure another  attendant  in  your  ward,  and  you  can  visit 
it  now  and  then.  This  man  needs  something  more 
than  medicine,  and  surgical  attendance.  A  reader, 
and  some  one  to  speak  to,  or  he  will  go  mad." 

"I  believe  you  did  not  consult  my  wishes.  Your 
foregone  conclusion  would  amuse  me,  if  anything 
could,  Doctor." 

"  Beg  your  pardon.  I  know  you  are  not  subject  to 
orders,  only  as  they  seem  to  come  from  the  lips  of 
Duty.  Visit  this  man  with  me,  and  look  into  his 
sightless  face,  and  you  will  require  no  urging.  You 
will  see  your  pathway  of  duty." 

Miss  Farnam  had  two  poor  fellows  under  her  care, 
who  would  receive  their  discharge  from  earthly  service, 
very  shortly,  and  her  heart  told  her  she  would  be 
missed  there,  but  she  followed  the  surgeon  passively — 
asking  nothing  and  caring  for  nothing,  save  to  stand  in 


THE  BO  Y  IN  JBL  ?K  335 

just  the  place  the  Father  called  her  to  occupy.  In  one 
of  the  distant  rooms  of  the  hospital — a  home  once — the 
surgeon  tapped  lightly  at  a  door,  and  entered  un- 
answered. 

If  the  silence  had  been  broken  by  the  voice  of  the 
patient,  who  can  tell  if  Aurora  would  ever  have  crossed 
its  threshold  ? 

It  was  in  the  gray  of  the  waning  daylight,  and  the  oc- 
cupant of  the  room  sat  by  the  window,  as  if  he  were 
waiting  for  a  glimpse  of  that  which  had  been  so  long 
gone. 

"  Good  evening,  Colonel,"  said  the  cheery  voice  of  the 
surgeon. 

"  Don't  give  me  that  detested  title,  if  you  respect  me, 
Doctor.  It  has  been  my  ruin,  and  now  its  repetition  is 
a  perpetual  reminder  of  what  might  have  been, — what 
might  have  been — and  is  not,  nor  ever  can  be  in  this 
world." 

Some  women  would  have  cried  out,  hearing  a  voice 
once  so  dear, — so  lost !  Some  would  have  fainted,  and 
sank  away  just  a  little  time,  as  if  resting  from  the  first 
great  pain,  but  Aurora  Farnam  did  neither,  and  if  the 
blood  receeded  from  her  face,  it  was  too  white  always, 
and  the  dusk  too  tender  to  reveal  it  now.  She  only 
lifted  her  finger  in  token  of  silence  to  the  surgeon,  and 
his  receptive  brain  took  in  something  of  the  truth,  and 
so  he  only  made  a  professional  call,  and  left  his  patient 
as  usual  with  Aurora's  foot-falls  blended  in  his  own, 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE. 


so  that  Hobart  Ringold  did  not  know  that  the  best,  and 
most  beautiful  thing  in  life,  to  him,  had  "  been  so  near, 
and  yet  so  far." 

Eagerly  she  clutched  the  Doctor's  arm,  and  facing 
him  in  the  vestibule,  she  unveiled  her  woman's  heart  to 
him,  forgetting  that  he  was  almost  a  stranger. 
The  fire  had  smouldered  so  long  ! 
"  I  loved  Hobart  Ringold,  and  promised  to  be  his 
wife.  He  turned  from  his  country,  and  I  turned  from 
him.  I  cursed  him  with  such  words  as  a  heart-broken 
woman  pours  out  upon  the  man  who  has  darkened  her 
life.  I  told  him  he  should  never  see  my  face  again,  but 
oh  this  is  worse  than  death,  and  I  did  not  curse  him  with 
this,  tell  me,  Doctor,  that  I  did  not  bring  this  to 
him-." 

The  surgeon's  jutting  brow  sheltered  big  tears,  as  he 
looked  in  the  girl's  dry  fierce  eyes,  and  said  : 

"  No,  no,  child.  A  burn,  or  a  shock  from  an  ex- 
plosiun,  wrought  this  blindness,  and  you  may  —  I  only 
say  may  bring  back  his  sight.  Cures  have  come  by 
care.  Will  you  let  me  tell  him?" 

"  0  no,  no.  He  may  hate  me  for  the  evil  of  my 
words,  when  we  parted.  I'll  watch  over  him,  and  tell 
him,  too,  if  —  if  —  my  heart  directs  rny  lips  in  such  a 
way.  Say  to  him  he  is  to  have  a  nurse  from  Memphis, 
and  her  name  is  —  is  —  Hope  —  Miss  Hopo,  that  is  enough, 
and  1  will  save  him,  Doctor,  if  a  woman's  watchfulness, 
and  a  woman's  prayers,  can." 


THE  BO  T  IN  SL  UE.  337 

The  surgeon  went  back  to  Hobart  Kingold,  and  only 
peeped  in,  and  said  : 

"  I  omitted  to  tell  you,  I  have  procured  a  careful, 
ladylike  person  to  direct  your  attendant,  and  prepare 
your  food  with  reference  to  the  medicines  you  take 
from  day  to  day.  She  will  read  to  you,  and  her  voice 
is  very  pleasant.  I  hope  she  will  save  your  eyes,  if 
not — why  she  will  make  it  easier  to  bear.  Good 
night." 

Hobart  liked  the  signification  of  the  name,  and  that 
was  all  the  interest  he  took  in  his  new  nurse.  His  last 
one  -was  abrupt,  even  brusque,  but  very  kind.  Then 
the  books  that  fed  his  heart  and  brain  were  Greek  to 
her,  and  her  reading  very  disagreeable.  He  rniglt  have 
been,  for  a  moment,  pleased  by  the  remark  about  Miss 
Hope's  voice,  but  there  was  little  to  gladden  him  in 
anything  that  happened  now.  It  was  an  especial  atten- 
tion that  he  had  a  room  by  himself,  because  he  had  no 
longer  any  money  with  which  to  procure  even  his 
common  requirements.  Sometimes  he  fancied  his 
expenses  were  met  by  the  generous  hand  of  the  surgeon, 
but  such  kindliness  was  so  unlike  his  ideal  Yankee 
character  that  he  was  slow  to  admit  it.  However,  he 
could  see  some  things  with  more  distinctness  in  his 
blindness,  than  ever  before.  His  humiliation  was 
never  alluded  to  by  the  Union  officers,  and  he  was  met 
with  the  free  courtesy  of  an  equal,  always.  How  much 
this  delicacy  added  to  the  bitterness  of  his  penitence, 
29 


338 


THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 


can  only  be  guessed  by  the  nervous  tread  of  his  restless 
feet,  and  the  lines  about  his  expressive  mouth,  after  an 
interview  with  a  northern  visitor. 

He  was  casting  off  the  accumulation  of  self-reproach 
which  the  surgeon's  thoughtfulness  always  brought, 
when  a  tap — soft,  and  yet  firm,  told  him  an  unusual 
hand  was  upon  the  door,  and  the  character  of  its 
owner,  too,  with  just  the  accuracy  that  a  look  into  her 
face  would  have  given  him.  With  a  careful  politeness 
that  he  had  rendered  no  other  visitor,  he  groped  for  the 
door,  and  said :  "  I  was  expecting  you,  Miss  Hope. 
Will  you  find  yourself  a  seat?" 

She  was  glad  to  obey  him,  so  thrilled  was  she  by 
those  wonderful  tones,  and  so  pained  by  the  thin  face — 
ghastly  at  noon-tide, — but  unearthly  in  the  glimmer  of 
the  little  nurse  lamp,  with  its  side  shade.  How  she 
marshaled  her  mental,  and  physical  forces  sufficiently 
to  ask  for  his  diet  orders,  and  say  she  hoped  to  help 
him  past  the  shadows,  only  a  woman  who  has  fettered 
her  emotions,  can  ever  tell.  That  he  did  not  remember 
her  voice,  was  no  marvel,  for  her  own  mother  would 
not  have  turned  to  her  with  a  thought  of  recollection, 
it  was  so  deep,  and  tremulous.  Besides,  Mr.  Ringold 
had  not  been  sightless  long  enough  for  his  other  senses 
to  have  rallied,  and  taken  the  perceptive  uses  of  his 
eyes  upon  themselves. 

His  attendant  touched  the  slip  of  directions  inter- 


TEE  EOT  IN  BLUE.  339 

lining  the  blank  formula,  and  Miss  Hope  left  the 
apartment. 

"  She  has  lost  her  all  in  this  struggle,  and  is  purchas- 
ing peace  for  her  troubled  spirit,  by  consoling  others. 
Poor  empty  heart !  The  voice  sounded  so  sad,  so  sad ! 
Perhaps  we  can  comfort  each  other." 

This,  Ringold  said  aloud,  with  the  habit  of  sightless 
people,  and  Aurora,  who  was  steadying  her  shivering 
nerves  by  a  grasp  upon  the  casing  of  the  door,  heard 
his  utterance  of  sympathy,  and  in  that  moment  forgave 
him  all !  How,  being  a  woman,  could  she  help  it  ? 
Then  she  felt  safe  from  recognition,  and  that  took  away 
one  of  the  terrors  of  her  position. 

How  delicately  the  broth  was  flavored !  What  a 
dainty  brown  the  toast  took  on,  under  her  eyes  !  How 
fragrant  the  tea  announced  itself  to  be,  when  she  enter- 
ed the  patient's  room.  Silently  she  placed  it  upon  the 
little  table,  and,  with  a  motion  to  the  man  in  waiting, 
left  the  room.  She  fancied  it  would  be  hard  for  Rin- 
gold to  have  a  stranger  witness  to  his  helplessness,  and 
forgot  that  she  was  to  act  the  role  of  nurse,  and  not  the 
sensitive  lady — but  she  was  a  novice  still. 

That  night  she  did  not  tell  Remy  of  her  last  patient. 
Her  new  sorrow,  or  rather  her  old  one,  with  a  sweeter 
face,  and  more  endurable  bitterness,  she  wanted  all  by 
herself  in  its  first  days,  but  Remy  understood  it,  and 
was  the  saddest  of  the  two  women  during  that  sleepless 


340  THE  BOY  IN  BL  UE. 

night,  when  neither  spoke.  Remy  feared  who  the 
patient  might  be,  from  the  surgeon's  story,  and  her 
fears  were  confirmed  by  the  softer  lines  in  Aurora's 
silent  face,  and  her  forgetfulness  of  another's  presence. 
Aurora  had  been  so  thoughtful,  and  careful  of 
Remy's  health,  and  had  striven,  when  wearied  and  des- 
pondent herself,  to  make  Remy  cheerful  and  hopeful, 
but  to-night  she  was  self-absorbed,  and  walking  in  a 
dream.  There  seemed  to  be  a  present  shadow  upon 
her  life — but  beyond — somewhere  in  the  far-away 
horizon  of  her  existence  there  lies  a  shore  of  softer 
lights,  and  tenderer  coloring. 

Many  times,  the  stillness  of  the  midnight  almost 
forced  Remy  to  reach  forth  her  palm,  and  say  : 

"  Aurora,  this  hand  took  the  light  out  of  his  life, 
and  left  him,  and  you,  in  darkness  and  sorrow,"  but 
her  reason  held  back  her  voice,  and  she  buried  the 
secret  in  her  own  soul.  Many  and  many  another  time 
it  will  rise  and  beg  for  utterance,  but  may  she  be 
strong  enough  to  cling  to  the  pitiful  story,  and  leave  it 
forever  untold. 

How  confession  helps  one  to  bear  a  remembrance 
with  patience  and  peace ! 

The  next  morning,  and  the  next,  and  every  morning, 
the  aroma  of  flowers  filled  the  room  of  the  sightless 
man,  and  he  turned  to  them  with  an  emotion  born  of 
less,  and  less,  sorrow. 

The  breakfasts  were  so  dainty,  and  a  woman's  hand 


THE  BO  Y  IN  BL  HE,  341 

was  so  much  more  helpful,  and  careful  than  a  coarse 
man's,  that  the  patient  forgot  to  be  proud,  and  repellant 
and  took  the  food  with  an  enjoyment  he  was  supposed 
to  have  forgotten. 

She  did  not  ask  him  what  books  she  should  read,  after 
the  meagre  news  of  the  day  was  gleaned,  but  unasked, 
commenced  Geoffrey  Chaucer's  "  Man  of  Law's  Tale," 
and  made  the  blind  penitent  forget  himself  in  this 
picture  of  womanly  holiness.  Constance  has  been 
called  one  of  the  white  lilies  of  womanhood,  and  the 
symbol  belongs  to  such  as  she.  His  face  grew  soft,  and 
a  hush  came  over  his  disturbed  features,  always  so 
changeable.  There  was  a  lulling  charm  in  the  voice, 
too,  that  soothed,  and  caressed  him  into  quiet.  She 
ceased  when  the  story  was  ended,  and  he  only  said  : 

"  I  thank  you,  Miss  Hope.  There  are  currents  of 
sound  in  your  voice,  and  now  and  then  a  minor  tone, 
that  is  a  perfect  echo  of  one  who  is  now  buried, 
not  under  the  golden  dandelions,  and  silky  grass — but 
buried  away  from  me.  I  am  better  for  this  lesson  of  a 
woman's  patience,  and  better  for  the  assurance  that  life 
has  a  little  to  enjoy,  however  much  there  is  to  endure. 
Read  me  a  little  more  of  something,  and  then  go  rest 
yourself  in  the  sunshine  of  this  early  autumn." 

She  took  from  her  pocket  a  tiny,  russet-colored  Bible, 
and  the  fiftieth  Psalm  went  through  and  through  his 
soul,  by  its  own  wonderful  power,  and  the  penetrative 

tones  of  the  voice  that"  so  wrapped  him  in  memory. 
29* 


342  THE  JiOY  IN  J3L  VE. 

Now  and  then,  those  beautiful  eyes  were  lifted  to  the 
face  of  her  auditor,  as  the  sentences  flowed  on,  while  un- 
utterable pity,  and  almost  the  old  love,  lay  in  them,  and 
then  a  look,  as  if  a  resolution  was  melting  away  in  the 
moisture  that  hung  in  crystal  pendants  from  her  long 
golden  lashes  and  drifting  like  a  tide  over  her  features, 
and  then  it  ebbed  slowly  back  into  calm  determination. 
How  she  might  have  hated  him  still,  but  she  did  not,  for 
she  was  only  a  woman  ! 

Pardon  her  for  loving  one  who  had  been  traitorous  to 
his  country.  Her  father  had  been  a  rebel,  and  was  peni- 
tent, and  she  forgave,  and  loved  him  still.  Hobart 
Ringold  was  penitent  also,  and  his  punishment  was  so 
terrible ! 

When  the  history  of  this  pitiful  era  shall  have  been 
fully  written,  we  shall  understand  how  many  have  been 
caught  in  the  whirlwind  of  sophistry,  and  by  the  pres- 
sure of  fateful  surroundings,  and  hurried  to  doom,  only 
to  know  where  they  were  tending,  too  late  ! 

Aurora  Farnam  knew  how  alluring  had  been  the  in- 
fluences that  drew  so  many  to  death,  or  worse,  and  as 
she  looked  into  that  sightless,  helpless,  hopeless  face,  a 
quiver  of  startled  thought  told  how  she  let  herself, 
dream, — just  for  a  moment — that  the  old  bond  so  sweet 
and  so  strong,  was  not  severed  utterly.  Then  her 
expression  said  : 

"  Not  now,  nor  here.     He  must  bear  it  yet  awhile 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  UE.  343 

longer,  for  God  sent  him  the  darkness.  Sometime — 
perhaps, — I  will  be  again  truly  his  Morning,  but  not 
now — not  now  !" 

She  looked  this  last,  as  if  she,  too,  had  sinned,  ami 
was  sentencing  herself  to  penance. 

But  the  Psalm  was  ended,  with  scarce  a  look  at  the 
little  book,  so  perfect  was  her  recollection  of  its  beauti- 
ful cadences,  and  the  volume  closed. 

Hobart  Ringold's  head  was  bowed  upon  his  hand, 
and  deep  feeling  shook  his  great  manly  figure  like  the 
swaying  of  an  oak  in  a  strong  wind. 

How  she  longed  to  kneel  by  his  side,  and  pray  for 
him,  even. as  she  had  prayed  for  other  penitents,  but  she 
did  not.  God  could  hear  her  in  the  silence  of  her  own 
barren  room,  with  as  tender  a  bowing  down  to  listen 
to  the  wordless  longing  of  an  earnest  believing  soulj 
as  by  the  side  of  her  beloved. 

First,  to  the  poor  fellows  who  had  looked,  and  longed 
in  vain,  for  her,  all  that  dreary  morning,  she  went,  and 
with  her  soft  hands  soothed  the  aching  temples  of  one 
— prepared  a  cooling  draught  for  another,  and  prayed 
a  third  over  the  mysterious  threshold  of  the  Hereafter, 
whence  his  disrobed  soul,  whitened,  and  purified  by 
peril,  and  tears,  and  the  simple  faith  that  Aurora 
taught  him,  passed  gladly. 

Carrying  her  own  burden  as  silently,  and  through  as 
lonely  a  way  as  Constance  of  Rome  bore  her  o\vu 


344  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

heavy  sorrow  for  five  years  over  a  restless  sea,  Aurora 
went  gathering  consolation  and  rest  for  others,  and 
reverential  love  for  herself. 

The  days  went  by,  and  though  the  fitful  fevered  pulse 
of  Ringold  was  quieter  and  indicated  general  improve- 
ment— the  darkness  tarried.  His  shy  nurse  interested 
him  although  she  did  not  talk  to  him.  She  never  asked 
him  for  the  books  he  loved  best,  but  read  as  she  fancied 
he  needed  the  thoughts,  alternating,  as  she  did  with  his 
diet. 

She  read  John  Brent,  and  the  healthy  tone,  and 
earnest  purpose  of  some  of  its  characters  roused  him  a 
little,  but  Don  Fulanno  stirred  him  into  speech.  He 
told  of  his  own  noble  animal,  and  how  when  he  could 
mount  him  no  longer,  the  confederacy  "  conscripted'' 
him,  and  separated  them  forcibly. 

How  he  ground  his  teeth  at  the  recital !  Poor  Glory 
doomed  to  an  ignoble  life,  or  perhaps  better  than  that, 
a  speedy  death  ! 

Once  she  entered  upon  the  blind  episode  in  the  life 
of  Lord  Rochester,  and  little  Jane  Eyre.  Then  Aurora 
Leigh,  with  the  saddest  portion  of  poor  Marion's  fate 
omitted,  filled  the  blank  morning  and  his  face  brightened 
at  the  last,  and  he  interrupted  involuntarily,  to  call  out : 

"  Aurora — my  Aurora,  would  you  be  sunshine  and 
moonlight  to  me  if  you  could  know  how  I  had  sorrowed 
and  suffered  !" 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  345 

"  Yes ! — yes  !"  came  in  a  whisper, — so  far  away  it 
seemed  to  his  imagination,  and  yet  so  near ! 

Nothing  more  came  for  all  his  eager  listening. 

"  Miss  Hope."  There  was  no  answer,  and  Hoburt 
Ringold  was  alone ! 


346  THE  BO  ¥  IX  BL  UE. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


WADING    STILL. 


"  0  smite  us  gently,  gently  God! 
Teach  us  to  bend,  ana  kiss  the  rod, 
And  perfect  grow  through  grief." 


"  LIGHT — more  light !"  Did  Goethe  call  for  just  a 
glimmer  to  pierce  through  the  darkness  that  seemed 
to  gather,  or  are  our  imaginings  at  fault,  and  these  last 
words  of  the  poet,  exultant  exclamations  of  delight,  as 
he  floats  out  from  earthy  shadows,  into  the  glory  of  un- 
veiled radiance  ?  We  believe  he  beheld  the  dawn  of 
an  endless  day.  How  like  Gobelin  tapestry,  is  "  the 
life  that  now  is !"  We  weave  on,  and  weave  on,  but 
cannot  see  the  wonders  being  wrought  by  our  ceaseless 
endeavor.  Neither  can  we  know  that  while  our  shut- 
tles are  plying  steadily,  and  the  fair  threads  are  wind- 
ing in  and  out,  those  nearest  and  dearest  to  our.  lives 
are  plaiting  sombre  fibres  into  deathly  shapes. 

While  Aurora  and  Remy  were  weaving  and  weaving, 
as  the  threads  came  to  them,  the  pictures  upon  the 


THE  BO  T  IN  BL  HE.  347 

mountains  girdling  Chattanooga,  were  being  woven  for 
sunken  eyes  to  weep  over,  but  before  which,  Liberty 
would  clap  her  hands. 

It  was  a  victory,  and  Aurora,  for  herself  and  her 
country,  was  glad.  It  was  a  victory,  and  Remy  trem- 
bled. For  only  a  little,  did  her  heart  vibrate  between 
hope  and  fear,  because  sorrowful  messages  are  so  swift  ! 
Her  brother  called  to  her,  but  from  her  father  there 
was  no  message,  and  she  knew  that  between  they  two 
silence  had  fallen  forever ! 

How  eagerly  Aurora  strove  to  gather  comfort  for 
her  friend  !  How  softly,  and  with  bowed  head,  she  told 
of  the  dawning  of  a  better  day  to  us  all,  and  now  that 
they  must  separate — one  to  go  where  dutiful  affection, 
called,  and  the  other  to  still  stand  by  the  suffering,  till 
Peace  brooded  over  us  once  more,  there  was  no  need 
for  silence,  between  them.  She  acknowledged  her  alle- 
giance to  her  old  lover — sinful  as  he  had  been,  and 
stricken  as  he  was,  and  begged  Remy  to  care  for  him 
on  the  way  to  his  old  home,  and  plead,  if  need  be,  with 
his  mother,  for  room  in  her  heart  for  her  only  living 
child. 

She  claimed  a  promise  from  Remy,  that  she  would 
now  and  then  lighten  his  darkness,  by  the  bestowment 
of  such  attentions  as  her  brother  could  spare.  She 
said  she  dare  riot  trust  herself  to  tell  him  what  she  was 
to  him  now,  and  what  she  would  be  if  the  Good  Father 
spared  her  till  there  were  no  more  battles.  She 


348  THE  EOT  IN  BL UE. 

believed  that  God  meant  his  suffering  as  expiation  and 
she  would  endure  a  portion  of  it,  by  helping  him  to 
bear  the  blows  that  Rebellion  gave,  even  through 
separation,  and  weariness. 

Remy  had  never  thought  of  her  own  little  self,  as  a 
type  of  perfect  Christian  womanhood,  but  lifted 
Aurora's  hand  reverently  and  kissed  it,  as  if  she  were 
sainted  by  sacrifice.  She  almost  forgot  her  own  afflic- 
tion, knowing  how  much  greater  is  an  unburied  sorrow, 
as  she  prepared  for  a  hurried  departure. 

With  the  good  surgeon,  Remy  held  her  first  inter- 
view with  the  man  she  had  doomed  to  blindness.  She 
had  a  fiercer  combat  with  herself  to  face  him,  than  there 
had  been  in  the  contest  where  this  retribution  fell.  Soft- 
ly she  repeated  Aurora's  message,  and  saw  the  lifted  face 
of  Hobart  Ringold  grow  beautiful  in  this  baptism  of 
hope.  He  neither  plead  for  a  touch  of  Aurora's 
hand  nor  cried  out  against  the  possible  that  lay  in  this 
illimitable  separation.  He  was  like  a  lost  child  being 
led  from  bewilderment  and  terror  to  its  mother's  arms, 
and  felt  nothing  but  happiness. 

It  was  a  dreary  severance  between  these  two  women 
who  had  so  suffered  and  so  endured,  and  for  once,  just 
once,  Aurora  moaned  over  the  wretchedness  which  her 
self-immolation  brought,  but  she  never  thought  of 
swerving  from  the  pathway  she  had  chosen. 

How  long  she  lay,  prone  upon  the  bare  floor  of  that 
dismal  room,  and  wept  and  prayed,  none  save  she  and 


THE  BOY  IN  BL UE.  349 

the  angels  know,  but  she  rose  at  last,  and  put  away  the 
traces  of  that  sharp  pain  which  gnawed  at  her  heart, 
and  took  her  old  place  in  the  hospital.  The  surgeon's 
voice  always  lowered  with  involuntary  awe,  when  he 
spoke  in  her  presence — and  her  patients  seemed  intui- 
tively to  know  that  a  shadowy  wing  had  swept  over  her 
life,  and  they  were  patient  before  this  mysterious 
suffering,  that  was  greater  than  theirs. 

So  the  months  went  by  with  her,  and  so  they  glide 
on  still.  Now  and  then,  she  sends  a  cheery  letter  to 
Mrs.  Ringold,  hiding  the  pitiful,  and  picturing  only  the 
fairer  and  holier  scenes  of  her  hospital  life  and  exulting 
in  every  victory  of  our  arms  as  so  much  distance 
bridged  between  herself,  and  her  heart's  rest.  She 
knew  how  the  mother's  anger  had  melted  before  her 
returning  son,  and  was  sure  that  his  days  glided  on  as 
happily  as  a  mother's  love  could  make  them. 

Remy  lured  back  health  and  strength  to  her  brother, 
and  but  once  did  she  see  him  turn  his  manly  face  from 
beholding  only  the  glory  that  was  to  come  to  a  purified 
country,  and  that  was  when  after  his  convalesence  was 
fully  established,  she  told  the  wonderful  story  of  Aurora 
Farnam's  love,  and  sacrifice. 

To  Remy's  questioning  eyes,  he  replied : 

"  Only  another  sweet  hope  gone — another  dream 
faded,  but  it  is  better  so.  Hereafter,  Liberty  alone,  shall 
have  my  affection." 

"  And  little  Remy  ?" 
30 


350  THE  BOY  IN  BLUE. 

"  And  little  Remy,"  he  answered,  with  a  long  gaze 
into  her  true  eyes,  so  melancholy  in  the  reflection  of  his 
broken  pictures  of  a  "  Sweet,  sweet  home." 

The  old  year  waned,  and  the  new  one  grew,  and 
Abernethy  St.  Remy  returned  to  the  field,  a  little  deeper 
eyed — a  shade  tenderer  to  his  companions,  but  unrelent- 
ing to  himself.  No  duty  was  too  wearying,  or  too 
dangerous  now,  and  his  men  revered  him,  and  followed 
him  upon  the  very  Verge  of  Death's  dominions,  but  he 
was  unscathed.  He  was  a  General  after  Missionary 
Ridge  became  historic,  and  he  bore  his  honors  as  if  a 
greater  burden  of  care,  and  not  a  bay  wreath,  was  laid 
upon  him.  He  seemed  to  be  lifted  away  from  every 
tie  of  kindred,  except  that  of  human  brotherhood  after 
he  had  given  his  darling  Remy  in  white  mist,  and  orange 
blossoms,  to  Colonel  Berry,  one  May  morning  before  a 
Georgian  battle.  Victory  arched  his  neck,  and  dilated 
his  thin  nostrils  when  General  St.  Remy  limped  into  the 
saddle  as  if  he  was  as  proud  of  his  gold  lace,  as  a  new 
Lieutenant.  He  was  used  to  the  clash  of  steel,  and 
eeemed  pleased  to  exchange  the  feminine  riding  habit, 
which  had  mounted  him,  for  silver  spurs,  and  the  "  Bat- 
tle's dusky  marge,"  and  Remy  was  glad  she  could  send 
him  as  her  substitute,  knowing  how  faithfully  he  would 
serve  his  General. 

There  was  no  bridal  spectacle,  only  a  solemn  religious 
formula — a  sacrament,  and  afterward  a  separation  at 
Vicksburg,  where  the  bride  laid  away  once  more  the 


THE  EOT  IN  BLUE,  351 

foamy  muslin,  and  arrayed  in  white  cap,  and  dusky 
gown,  again  took  her  place  by  the  side  of  Aurora  Far- 
nam,  to  work  out  her  portion  of  toil  for  the  glorious 
cause  of  Universal  Freedom. 

May  the  Good  God  hold  them  both  in  his  sheltering 
and  loving  Palm ! 


NOTE. 
•  * 

Leon  Trissilian  St.  Remy  was,  early  in  the  year  1864,- 
bearer  of  despatches  over  the  country  toward  Mur 
freesboro,  and  whether  necessity,  or  curiosity  led  him, 
we  do  not  know,  but  he  spent  a  night  at  the  Stuart 
Mansion,  and  would  have  lingered,  but  his  orders  were 
peremptory.  It  was  not  quite  the  shortest  route,  but 
his  return  brought  him  back  again,  and  under  the  silver 
reign  of  a  summer  moon,  friendship  grew  with  wonder- 
ful rapidity.  There  was  so  much  to  say  of  the  young 
Lieutenant — her  chivalrous  brother,  and  so  much  to 


352 

write  about  afterward.  In  the  interval  of  communica- 
tion, Miss  Belle  had  a  habit  of  trifling  with  a  Cairngorm 
cross,  suspended  by  a  tiny  fetter  of  gold,  while  her 
eyes — wore  an  expression  which  was  softened  into  the 
peculiar  velvety  glow  that  was  characteristic  of  the 
Boy  in  Blue. 

How  eagerly  she  extends  hospitality  to  the  Federal 
soldiery  !  How  many  of  the  poor  fellows  have  found 
rest,  and  medicine  for  soul  and  body  under  that  genial 
roof,  they  could  not  now  remember.  Because  they 
have  welcomed  back  their  wanderers  from  over  the  sea, 
and  because,  the  apostles  of  Liberty  are  so  dear,  they 
only  remember  their  past  sorrows  as  a  troubled  dream, 
and  lift  the  shadows  of  all  who  come  wearied  to  their 
thresholds. 


THE      END. 


THE 

A  NEW  BOOK  FOE  THE  YOUNG, 
BY  M.  E.  DODGE. 


SUITABLE  FOR  TOIXG  AMERICA  AND  HIS  SISTERS. 


CONTAINING   FIVE   EXQUISITE    ILLU8TEATION8   DRAWN   ON 
WOOD,  EXPEESSLY  FOE  THIS  WOEK,  BY 

THE    BEST    DESIGNER    IN    AMERICA. 


THE  IBVTNSTON  STORIES,  complete  In  one  volume,  are  seven  In  number, 
and  aim,  through  the  medium  of  interesting  and  instructive  narrative,  to  in- 
cite youth  to  high  and  noble  endeavor.  Its  author,  M.  E.  DODGE,  is  already 
known  to  the  public  as  a  contributor  to  some  of  the  leading  Periodicals  of 
the  day ;  and  her  writings  for  the  Young  have  been  widely  read  and  com 
mended. 


ANALYSIS  or  CONTENTS: 

THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  HILLS. 

CAPTAIN  GEOEGE,  THE  DEUMMEE-BOY. 

THE  GOLDEN  GATE. 

BOY'S   BATTLE-SONG. 

CUSHAMEE;  02,  THE  DOT'S  WALK. 

PO-NO-KAH. 

BRAVE  ROBBY  AND  THE  SKELETON. 

THE  AETIST  AND  THE   NEWSBOY. 


Large  16mo,  ?60  pages,  bevelled  binding,  price  $1.50. 
Sold  by  all  Booksellers,  and  will  be  sent  free  by  mail,  on  re- 
ceipt of  price,  by 

126  NASSAU  STREET,  N.  Y. 
San  Francisco :  0.  H.  Bancroft  fc  Co. 


• 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


DUE  2  WKS  FROM  DAFE  RECEIVED 


